


The Pack Survives

by K_85



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya-centric, Badass Arya, F/M, Jon Snow is a Stark, Queen Arya, Queen in the North, Romance, Second Chances, Slow Burn, and a Targaryen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-03-02 19:36:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 42,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_85/pseuds/K_85
Summary: The long night has come and gone. The North is independent and is ruled by Queen in the North, Arya Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So some of you may recognise 'The Pack Survives' (I hope) from months ago. Long story short I faced some unpleasantness and decided to take my work down. What I realised later was that my action was unfair. It was unfair to me and especially to the people who were following and reading the story.
> 
> I'd deleted any sort of back-up I had, but thanks to a brilliant friend and reader <3 (You know who you are) I was able to get back most of my chapters. 
> 
> I will be re-working and tweaking the chapters before I post them online. The general direction of the story will not change whatsoever.

**_“Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise.”  -- Horace_ **

 

 

_"_ _You will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."_

She remembered when her father had said that, all those years ago in Kings Landing. Now, she stood in front of his statue in the crypts of Winterfell with the Winter Crown upon her head. Over the years, she'd had many aliases. She had been Arry, Nan, Mercy, Weasel and so many others. She had been taught how to discard faces as easily as names to such an extent, that, now becoming another was as easy as breathing.

However, being Arya Stark, Queen in the North was anything but easy. It was a burden that took it's toll, even if it was borne willingly - for her people and her pack.

"You were right, Father, I did become Queen but, not through any King. I am Queen to our people, the _first_ Queen in the North. I do not - I cannot bring myself to believe I am worthy of this title, but the task has fallen to me nonetheless. It is not easy but, your lessons help. I remember them all - don't ask your men to die for a stranger, the man who passes the sentence must swing the sword and that always, always winter is coming."

Arya placed the winter roses she had collected in front of his statue and smiled.

"I understand now, why you so rarely smiled. Your family did not end with us, rather, it included the entirety of the North. These days, through sleep and wakefulness I only have one concern - our people. The North has suffered greatly but, with each passing day, we grow stronger. I promise you this, Father - the North will endure and so will the Starks."

 

* * *

 

 

Arya slowly walked out of the crypts into the light of day. Bran, she knew would appear later in the day as was his practice. He preferred to spend his mornings in the Godswood - in search of solace. She could rarely afford such luxuries nowadays, she thought, as she headed towards the throne room where she knew, Sansa awaited her, along with matters of state.

Soon she was seated upon the throne, with Nymeria at her side. Arya tried to concentrate on the news Sansa revealed as she read a raven sent from White Harbor. The message informed them that Lord Manderly’s emissaries had set sail a week ago, to Essos.

"I do not understand why you insist on securing an alliance with the Free Cities. We have many challenges to deal with here in the North", Sansa spoke while she folded the missive from White Harbour.

"I know we have much to do here, Sansa, but, a long time ago I was told that sometimes in order to win, one had to change the rules of the game. I believe the Sealord of Braavos will look favourably upon the proposed alliance", Arya replied.

Sansa smirked, "He'll know we want something from him."

"Naturally we want something from him, that is how kingdoms survive, do they not Lady Hand?"

"Of course, Your Grace."

"You like to annoy me, don't you? Braavos is a great mercantile power in Essos and its military strength is famed. They will not be a burden to us, besides Braavos is referred to as the Bastard child of the Freehold and..."

"And you've always been fond of Bastards." Sansa finished for her.

Arya grinned, "You're finally beginning to understand me, sister. However, apart from my fondness for bastards, Braavos like the North guards it's independence fiercely. Let us hope that we can build a lasting alliance upon these similarities."

"What of the South and Kings Landing? Do you not think that our cousin and his Queen might be interested in this new strategy of yours?"

"We need concern ourselves only with the opinion of our people. As for the South, I promised them our allegiance, not our sovereignty. The way the North rules itself is our affair."

"Arya..." Sansa started to speak but Arya cut her off asking about the Lords who wanted a word with their Queen.

"Lords Glover and Umber will be here shortly," Sansa replied resignedly.

"And where is Lord Davos this fine morning?" Arya queried.

"Where you sent him Your Grace, to House Flint of the mountains to inquire of the raids they have suffered."

"Good. Is there any other immediate concern?"

"A raven from Kings Landing, bearing the Targaryen Sigil."

Sansa saw Arya hesitate before she stated, "I need to meet some of our people, the blacksmith included...the letter can wait," Arya replied walking towards the door.

"The Lords..."

"Will not be kept waiting, unlike me. I'll be back before then." Arya answered without looking back.

Sansa sighed quietly as she watched her sister leave. Ever since Arya had returned from Kings Landing it was almost impossible to get her to talk about Jon. Something had happened between them during Arya's visit South, of that Sansa was sure. Though her younger sibling was as stubborn as a mule sometimes, she outright refused to talk about anything remotely related to her and Jon. Whatever had caused the rift between them, it must have been something significant, for Sansa knew that Arya had always loved Jon best.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_"What's done, is done" -- Macbeth_ **

 

 

 

Supper was a lively gathering, Arya noted. She now occupied her Father's seat at the table, with Bran and Sansa, seated to her right. To her left, sat Lords Glover and Greatjon Umber.  To her amusement, Greatjon was seemingly trying to entertain Lord Glover with his ribald humour. Lord Glover's expression was certainly not one of diversion.

"Then the lass grabbed my ...", Greatjon continued.

 

"That is enough Lord Umber, you seem to forget you're in the presence of ladies.", Lord Glover interrupted looking annoyed.

 

Greatjon stared at Lord Glover and then leaned forward to look at Sansa. "Lady Sansa isn't close enough to be bothered.", he thundered.

 

"I was also referring to our Queen." Greatjon's laughter boomed across the hall as he raised his ale mug stating, "Ah! our Queen isn't the slightest bit embarrassed by my interesting tale."

 

Before the squabble could escalate, Arya, cut in and asked when the Lords would be returning to their respective keeps. Lord Glover, answered his departure would take place on the morrow, whereas, deep in his cups, Greatjon Umber asked if the Queen was tired of his presence already. Arya smiled indulgently and replied in the negative. Soon enough, the lords took to bantering amongst themselves, leaving Arya free to observe the surroundings around her. The ale flowed freely, as it always did whenever Greatjon was around.

When her gaze finally turned to her brother, she found him looking at her with a smile on his face.

 

"Still looking for lurking dangers, sister?" Bran inquired.

 

"Starks are renowned for their bad luck, brother.", Arya replied.

 

"Things are not as they were, Arya."

 

"Our words say different - winter is forever near is it not? Besides, a little watchfulness never hurt anyone."

 

"You are a good ruler for our people. Mother and Father would no doubt be proud. Though, you should remember dear sister, that your brother is the Three-Eyed Crow. The Starks may be renowned for their bad luck, but they also endure.", Bran said.

 

"I do not have it in me to endure anymore Bran. You, Sansa and Rickon are all that matter to me. I have to protect us at all costs."

 

“Arya, you are too hard on yourself. What all of us went through, it was meant to be. If we did not learn the lessons we did, how could we have prepared for all the battles that awaited us? As for Rickon, Sansa and I, we are safe now. Rickon was more than happy to be fostered at Bear Island. Betrothing him to Lady Lyanna was perceptive. Not only did make our brother happy, but Bear Island was also suitably rewarded for their service to our House."

 

"I didn't do for alliances or rewards. Rickon was so young when he lost mother and father. He deserves to be happy, and, it seems his happiness is with Lady Lyanna. Truth be told, I couldn't be happier to have her for a good-sister."

 

"Speaking of good-sisters, Sansa said something about a raven Kings Landing.", Bran noticed Arya's face closing up like a flower as he finished his sentence.

 

"I haven't read it yet.", came her reply.

 

"Arya, how long will you avoid Jon? You realize that as Queen you can not hide from him?"

 

"I do not hide from anyone. Jon made his decision when he left."

 

Bran sighed, "He is a Targaryen, Arya. That is not something he had control over."

 

"He is a Targaryen but also a Stark. Our people followed him, even after his true parentage was revealed, but it seemed not enough for him - he should have at least..." Arya stopped herself before she could reveal more. "It no longer matters Bran, as you said, what is past is past. Jon is king of six kingdoms, a Targaryen king and our cousin. I want him to be happy, truly I do. But make no mistake, our pack does not include our cousin any longer."

 

"What happened when you went to Kings Landing after Jon's coronation, Arya", Bran asked.

 

"Can you not see brother? Are you not the Three-Eyed Crow?", Arya asked aggravatingly.

 

"No, I can't.", Bran said looking perturbed. "I have tried to, but I can only ever see you travelling to Kings Landing or sailing back from White Harbour. It's almost like something hinders me from seeing what occurred."

 

"Everything happens for a reason yes?", Arya replied as she stood up from her seat. "I'll see you tomorrow, brother.", she whispered smilingly and kissed his forehead before leaving the hall.

 

Instead of heading towards her chambers Arya walked to the Godswood and sat leaning against the Weirwood tree. She could not remember how many times she had seen her father lean against this very tree cleaning Ice, the great broadsword of House Stark.

Once the long night was over Lady Brienne had returned her sword 'Oathkeeper' to House Stark stating that was where the sword truly belonged. As to 'Widow's Wail', Jamie Lannister had fought bravely with the sword in the Battle for Dawn. However, he had not survived to see the Night King defeated and so Tyrion Lannister as a gesture of good faith had given the sword back to the Starks.

While Ice had been reforged and while great pains had been taken, to return it to its former look, the sword still looked different. Every time Arya sentenced someone to death, Ice was used to carry out the judgement, and every time Arya looked at Ice she was reminded of how fickle life was, and how quickly fate could change its course.

She realized now that her father must have felt something similar to what she felt now - since after Robert's Rebellion only Uncle Benjen and her father remained of their family. Ned Stark had returned to Winterfell as it's Lord to take the mantle of responsibility that was never meant for him, while Uncle Benjen had joined the Night's Watch.

He must have heartbroken, Arya realized. Just as she was, because, she still woke sometimes with tears on her face. The morning near Baelor's Statue would always haunt her. Her life had truly ended that day, a part of her did fade as they killed her father. Starks truly did not belong in the South she thought to herself, Grandfather and Uncle Brandon had proved this and so had her father.

'So did you' a voice whispered inside her head. She stood abruptly from her seat, unwilling to dwell on what had occurred when she had travelled South for Jon's coronation.

"Fear cuts deeper than swords," she said aloud and started to walk back and as she walked on her heart whispered 'so does betrayal'.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Chapter 2.
> 
> As always please excuse any grammatical/spelling errors and please do take the time out to comment if you like what you've read.


	3. Chapter 3

**_ “It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.”  ― William Blake _ **

 

 

Arya awoke, with tears running down her face, only this time, her dream had not about her father's murder.

Instead, her mind had recreated the dark corridors of the Red Keep. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself.  She left the bed to pace the length of her chamber, the events of that fateful night playing in her mind over and over again.

She'd been persuaded to visit the dragon pit, as her fascination with dragons was common knowledge. But, it had all been a pretence, for she had never made it to her destination. Instead, somewhere in the bowels of that accursed Keep, she'd felt a dagger pierce her back. She remembered staring down in shock to see the tip of the dagger protruding from her chest.

She knew at that moment that she would die and die she had. She had felt her heart cease and just before all life seeped from her body, a voice had said, 'A dragon does not forgive betrayal'.

She stopped her pacing, to stand in front of the full-length mirror. Loosening the laces of her shift, she pushed the material back to reveal the scar she still bore. A testament, to the treachery she had suffered, at the hands of a Targaryen. She knew, who her attacker was, yet, she was not entirely sure about who had ordered the attack.

_'A dragon does not forgive betrayal'_ , the words were seared into her brain. Only three Targaryens had survived through Robert's Rebellion, and, of those three, only two still lived on. Jon, _her_ Jon, would never be capable of such betrayal she knew. Arya traced the scar and felt the skin around the wound. Such a wound she thought, should have killed her. But, here she stood, alive and well.

What betrayal had they found her guilty of, Arya wondered? Perhaps, the more relevant question was, who had saved her? Who had carried her, unseen, from the tunnels of the Red Keep to some precarious inn, along the meandering streets of Kings Landing? All she knew was that she had awoken in a small room, all alone, with her chest aching as if the Others had danced upon it.

After gaining consciousness, she had barely been able to move for the first three hours. After much toil, she had somehow managed to drag her self to a mirror, to see her reflection clothed in leather pants and her chest covered in white strips. When she had managed to remove the bandage gingerly, she saw only what she could see in the mirror even now. A deep scar towards her left breast, at least 4 inches long.

Later she had only just managed to drag herself to Lord Davos's chamber in the Tower of the Hand, well past midnight. When she had finished informing him of all that had befallen her, he had not questioned how she stood before him, alive and well. However, she had asked herself that question every day since. Her wound had healed miraculously, leaving her in near comfort, after the night had passed. Magic, she had concluded was the answer, deeply powerful magic.

The next morning had found her seeking Jon to inform him of what had occurred.  The realm was still struggling, and she knew only too well of what would follow if the news of her attack was made public. She had gone to see Jon with absolute confidence that he would believe her, but what followed consequently had hurt her more than any dagger to the chest could have. She and her company had left Kings Landing immediately after, and she had never looked back.

 

A knock sounded at the door, pulling her out of her thoughts. Arya quickly pulled the material back into place and gave Nan permission to enter.

**_ _ **

"Your Grace, your morning meal has been readied. Shall I ask the servants to prepare your bath before you eat?", Nan asked.

**_ _ **

Arya smiled, "The bath first, please Nan."

**_ _ **

"As you will, Your Grace.", Nan replied as she went to follow her Queen's request.

**_ _ **

No one in the North knew of what she had undergone during her trip to Kings Landing after Jon's coronation except herself and Lord Davos. She still wondered almost daily, about her saviour. Who was it that had brought her back, a red priest or priestess? Although, they knew better than to come near her after she had made her hate of Melisandre more than clear. Whomever it was, had been strangely familiar. She had not seen her defender but knew instinctively, he or she was no stranger to her. She could recall very little of the dream she deemed she had while she lay suspended between life and the Great Beyond. She'd felt her father's loving presence and had felt safe. After a lifetime of war, it felt like she had come home. But in her dream, Ned Stark had kissed her forehead, and said only, "You will be a Queen". Next, she had awakened only to wish she never had.

 

* * *

**_ _ **

After having dressed for the day with her crown upon her head as armour, she went towards the message she had received from King's Landing. The seal broke easily enough and she unrolled the parchment to read. She could have recognized the script anywhere, the raven was from Jon.

**_ _ **

_Arya,_

_It seems forever since I last saw your face. It seems even longer since I've heard from you. I know I hurt you that day, but even the guilty are given a chance to speak their piece before being condemned. Give me a chance to explain myself._

_I could never dream of harming you. Talk to me, allow me a chance, just one._

_Please, little wolf._

_Jon Snow_

**_ _ **

She rolled the raven back again and tossed it in the fire. Sitting down at her desk she took a piece of parchment, dipped her pen in ink and wrote:

**_ _ **

_Your Grace,_

_I believe it was you, who clearly stated that the Starks never fared very well when they ventured beyond the North. I now know this to be true. Naturally, you will understand my sentiments when I decline._

_** ** _

_Arya Stark_

_Queen in the North_

**_ _ **

Arya rolled the parchment and sealed it, with a heavy heart. She handed it to the Maester and asked him to send it to Kings Landing to His Grace Jon Targaryen. As she walked to meet Sansa, she wondered how much longer would Jon continue to send these ravens. Not for very long, she thought, if Daenerys Targaryen had her way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 giving just a little bit more info.


	4. Chapter 4

_**"Everything has a price" -- Anne Bishop** _

 

 

Jon stared at the letter that he'd received only moments earlier. His heart had soared when he'd seen the direwolf sigil on it, until, he had read it.

His eyes roamed the luxuriant antechamber listlessly and felt the walls closing in around him. Is this how wild creatures felt when they were caged? he thought. Releasing the ties of his doublet, he approached the balcony. The skies were dark, and there was barely a breeze. The stillness of the air held the promise of rain. A moment later, he was sitting on the floor trying to get his breath back.

'She hates me', he thought as he leaned against the wall. Jon stared at the piece of parchment clutched in his hand. The words of the letter kept reverberating in his mind. Love is the death of duty, Maester Aemon had said once and how the words had tortured him since. He had believed that he could bear the burden of his lie, that he could do what was needed - so that his family - all that he had ever loved in the world could be safe. But every day the burden became heavier and heavier. He understood now only too late, that perhaps, living for love was more painful than dying for it.

Jon knew he was to blame for it all but that did not make is suffering easier to withstand. Arya thought he had left their pack because he loved Daenerys. She saw him little better than a deserter. Whereas the truth of it was that he had left because it had been the only way the North could ever be truly free. His parentage made him a threat to Daenerys, and she did not like the idea of his claim, hanging over her head like a sword.

 

* * *

 

_Jon had been charged to meet the Dragon Queen. When he entered her chambers, she was waiting for him alone._

 

_"You asked for me, Your Grace?"_

 

_"Now that the army of the dead has been defeated, there are important decisions to be made.", she said as she motioned for him to take a seat._

_Once seated Jon said, "I appreciate that you named Gendry Lord of Storms End. Your Grace is wise to show a willingness to leave behind past differences."_

_"I made him Lord of Storms End to make certain he would be grateful to me. Grateful men rarely start uprisings. I would like to speak with you as plainly as possible. The news of your paternity did leave me disconcerted for a while, but, I have come to see it as an opportunity..."_

_"An opportunity?"_

_"As I said, grateful men make grateful subjects. The Northerners will never fully accept a ruler, not of their choosing, and I will accept no less than seven kingdoms. Wed me and I shall allow the North to retain its independence.", Daenerys said._

_They stood alone in her chambers at Winterfell. The War for the dawn had only just ended, but the game of thrones continued on._

_"I do not want to marry you.", Jon said stoically. He knew now that the woman who stood before him was his aunt and that he was not Ned Stark's bastard. He loved another and could finally be with her now._

_"I thought you understood that our wants matter little. Our union would give me the assurance I need that the North would not rise against me because they would never rise against a King from amongst them."_

_Jon stood and moved away from Daenerys. He thought of Arya and the love he felt for her. 'I want my bride back', a voice whispered in his mind._

_"The Northerners have already given you assurances about their pledge of allegiance.", was all he said, knowing that Daenerys's words may have sounded like a choice - they were anything but._

_"Words are wind, isn't that what they say here in Westeros? I have not travelled across continents and defeated countless enemies, only to have the throne slip from my grasp now. Our marriage will keep the North within the reach of my power. They might not consider me their sovereign, but through you, I will be one nonetheless."_

 

* * *

 

 

Jon had known at that moment that his refusal was not an option. He had seen what Daenerys was capable of when he had learnt about her burning Lannister troops at the Reach. His marriage to her was the only thing that would ensure the North's safety - Arya's safety.

'I love her enough to die - and live for her', He'd thought to himself. So he had lied. Like his father before him. He had kept the reason behind his union a secret, praying that it would be enough to keep Arya protected at Winterfell, where she belonged.

The rain was pouring over the city now. His kingdom, he thought with disdain. He had given away his heart to keep Arya out of harm's way. He believed his ruse had worked until Arya had ridden to Kings Landing. When she had informed him of what had befallen her, in his own city, his resolve had shattered. All that he had done, was done in vain. What Arya had thought to be disbelief was anguish and she had left before he could have explained himself.

All the power, all the kingdoms in the world could not fill the void she left behind. And while his chance at absolution had been taken from him, he had settled for vengeance instead. Grey Worm had not lived long, he had made certain of it. 

It was painful, he thought, that all his efforts were wasted as fate had intervened to make Arya a queen. A move that put her directly in Daenerys's path.

Jon raised his face towards the sky savouring the cool drops of rain.

Ned Stark had lived a lie all his life, to keep Jon safe, and had taken his secret with him, to his grave. Jon's own fate it seemed, would be no different.

 

* * *

 

A few days later His Grace, Jon Targaryen received another raven from Winterfell. It was so addressed:

 

_Jon,_

_Things come apart so easily when they have been held together with lies. Nothing is truly lost until you stop trying. Come to Winterfell Brother. Come home._

 

_Bran Stark._

 

                   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter represents a change from the original story. 
> 
> Even as I wrote 'The Pack Survives' the first time around, I couldn't convince myself totally of how Jon had behaved. Canon Jon would rather cut off his arm than hurt or leave Arya. The thought kept nagging at me, but I had moved forward with the story and changing Jon's reasons would have meant - lots and lots of rewriting. 
> 
> But posting this story presented me with the chance to change up a few things here and there. This is one of those changes. As I said earlier the general direction of the story will not change, but certain aspects might be improved upon and things will become clearer as the story moves forward.
> 
> Once again I'd like to thank all my readers, those who comment (especially) and those who do not for their continued interest and support. Here's hoping Martin gives us the ship we deserve -- the SS-Jonrya and the show and it's nonsensical ending fade away from our very minds.


	5. Chapter 5

**_ “Instruction is good for a child, but example is worth more.” -- Alexander Dumas _ **

**__**

 

It was an unusually slow day Arya noted as she stroked Nymeria's fur. None of the common-folk had any petitions, there were no lords to placate, and Sansa had ridden out to meet several families that had newly arrived at Winter town. Bran had no doubt taken to the Godswood, and she had half a mind to go there herself.

**__ **

Instead, she went to her chambers, changed into her training attire and walked to the bridge that connected the Great Keep to the Armory with Nymeria following her footsteps faithfully. Her direwolf no longer surprised the people of Winterfell, considering her size. However, none ventured too close even now. Once in the Armory, she chose a Braavosi-style training sword and stepped out to where the Master at arms was training the new recruits. Many of the young soldiers were reluctant to spar with their Queen, even for training. The older soldiers knew better. Arya had sparred with and defeated at least four seasoned warriors before the Maester Wolkan found her and informed her that Lord Davos had returned from his journey.

 

* * *

**__ **

Lord Davos walked towards the Great Hall after having bathed and eaten. The Maester had informed him that Her Grace would meet with him there after he had made himself comfortable.

He smiled and was glad to be the bearer of good news. The matter of the raids had been taken care of by House Flint of the mountains, with a little assistance from him. He had, after all, been one of the best smugglers of the South once. While there, he had discovered the Northern Queen had been named after her great-grandmother, Arya Flint who had married Rodrick Stark. House Flint took great pride in the fact that the first Queen in the North was not only related to them by blood but also that she bore the name of one of their noble daughters. Davos had discovered that Arya Flint had been an excellent rider and hunter - traits that she had unquestionably passed to her great-granddaughter.

  
  


"It was about time you returned Lord Davos", Arya said as soon as he entered the Great Hall.

**__ **

"Your Grace", Lord Davos replied as he inclined his towards her, beaming as he did.

**__ **

"What news of House Flint?", Arya asked with worry in her voice. Years of devastation had weakened many Northern clans. House Flint was no exception.

**__ **

"The raiders were vagrants, Your Grace. Displaced and destitute, raiding only to survive", he stated, as he moved to stand in front on the Winter throne. "House Flint has taken them in and put them to honest work, Your  They understand only too well the ravages of war."

**__ **

"I am thankful for the part you played in convincing House Flint to help those people."

**__ **

Lord Davos looked at her surprised. The Queen had a way of gleaning information without a word having been said.

**__ **

"I should be used to it by now, the Gods know", he chuckled. "Dare I ask how you knew of my part in what transpired, my Queen?"

**__ **

"I sent you there to take care of House Flint, Lord Davos. I knew you would not let me down. House Flint is important to me, it is my..."

**__ **

"Great Grandmother's House?" Lord Davos completed.

  
  
"So you know now? I have oftentimes wondered why my father named me after Arya Flint. I am told she was a strong woman."

**__ **

"She was more than that, Your Grace. I've been informed that she was an exceptional rider and hunter. She might have made a great warrior it seems."

**__ **

"For all that the North produces strong women, it seems strange that we proclaimed none as Queen before me."

**__ **

"Change is gradual.", Lord Davis stated simply.

**__ **

"And painful.", Arya responded.

**__ **

"Yes. But pain teaches us lessons and teaches them well. Before our journey South, you were not ready to be proclaimed Queen. Yet, you came back to Winterfell a changed person."

  
  


"I never wanted to be queen. I never even wanted to be a Lady. My life's dream was to roam free, to be a hero, to build castles and conquer the world. A child's fantasy. Still, my father encouraged my wildness, even though he knew better than most, that duty was the death of dreams. More than any of the fabled heroes Old Nan talked of, I wanted to be him."

**__ **

"I never knew your father except by reputation. Though from what I've heard you are very like him. You are loved and respected by your people. Like your father, you have maintained the honour of your House.", Lord Davos declared.

**__ **

"You are right in more ways than one Lord Davos. I was never meant to rule just as my father was never meant to be Lord of Winterfell. Somehow, we both were pushed into these positions. Mostly, I relented to be the queen because of him. He taught us that those who are born to power have a duty to their people. I had a responsibility to the Northerners. The North had to survive. We had lost too much to give up."

**__ **

Lord Davos said, "Stannis Baratheon thought Ned Stark's honour had gotten him killed. I think that Ned Stark must have been an exceptional man to inspire such devotion and love long after he has gone."

**__ **

Arya smiled as she pictured her Father as Lord of Winterfell, and stated, "He was."


	6. Chapter 6

_ **“Names are powerful things.” -- Nicola Yoon** _

 

 

 

_“Who are you?”_

 

_“No one.”_

 

_This time the Kindly Man did not say she lied. Instead, Arya felt his hand at her chin. He lifted her face slightly and looked at her for a moment in silence._

 

_“Do you remember when I said that Arya Stark was too proud a name, child?”_

 

_Arya nodded._

 

_“There are many in this world who believe a name has no value. Even so, names have power. We know the value of names better here in the House of Black and White than anywhere else. Names give us our identity; they tether us to our lives. That is why those who would serve Him of Many Faces have to forego theirs. That is why the Faceless Men find it so easy to don others’ faces. However, I fear you will never forego your name. You will never truly be one of us.”_

 

_Arya moved back; away from the reach of the Kindly Man. She raised her head arrogantly and said, “You told me the Faceless Men originated deep in the mines of Valyria with the first Faceless Man. He must have had a name. Just because no one knows who he was, does not mean he did not have one. He served the Many-Faced God but he chose who to kill. He did everything the Faceless Men are not allowed to do. Either, you have the rules wrong or you aren't telling me the truth.”_

 

_The Kindly Man smiled._

 

_“Your wolf-eyes see much, child. Come, I think it is time. You are ready.”_

 

That was the day Arya's life with the Faceless Men truly began. All that she had gone through in the House of Black and White before had been a test of sorts. For some reason known only to them, the priests had taken it upon themselves that day to train her. They had taught her how to change faces, how to slide into the life of another as easily as one would slip into a gown. Though from that day forward no-one ever asked her who she was and she never had to pretend to be 'on one' again.

 

They had taught her to detect lies, to see beyond the words of men, into their thoughts. She learned the art of disguising herself, of blending into the shadows. She could mingle with pirates, courtesans, sell-swords, slaves as if she were one of them

 

Their last lesson taught her why the Faceless Men extracted a price for their targets even though they believed such men or women were marked for death by the Many-Faced God. It was surprising how similar that lesson was to what Ned Stark had taught his children.

 

'The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword', he'd said. Likewise, the guild believed that those who came to them looking to end the lives of others should have to feel the sting of their choice. If they could not pay the price asked, then perhaps the man did not deserve to die.

 

She had learned their lessons well.

  


* * *

 

  
  


If the last few days were slow, then this day had certainly made up for the lack of boredom. Arya was sitting upon the Winter Throne growing more exasperated as the Lords Locke and Karstark seemed mere seconds away from coming to blows. Nymeria could feel her agitation and was ready to pounce, ready to tear limbs for a moment of blessed silence. Lord Davos and Sansa tried to interrupt to calm the condition every now and then, in vain. Arya felt her hackles rising and it occurred to her that on such days she would rather be on a battlefield somewhere, where trivial matters didn't lead to grown men acting like a sorry set of children.

She rose slowly from her seat and felt Nymeria beside her coil herself, ready for attack. She took a deep breath and bellowed, "THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH MY LORDS!".

She was grateful to the Kindly Man at that moment, for having taught her to control her face and body; to lie without any shred of uncertainty. Anyone looking at her face then could never have revealed that she was not truly cross, merely tired of the bickering.

She made certain her face seemed was wiped clean of any expression. Her grey eyes nevertheless resembled hard and punishing ice. The Lords of Oldcastle, Karhold and all the men in their respective parties stared at their Queen as if they were seeing her for the very first time.

Once she was satisfied the Lords had suitably been brought to heel, she continued in a commanding voice, "Did we painstakingly pick ourselves up after the ravages of the Long Night only to perish fighting each other? I sit here thinking about ways to make the North the most commanding presence in Westeros, while my loyal bannermen squabble amongst themselves over matters that are easily solved."

 

Lord Karstark made the mistake of thinking Arya's tirade was over when he interrupted, "But Your Grace, that land has belonged to House Karstark for centuries..."

Lord Davos watched Arya's eyes grow colder as she turned her head to face the unfortunate nobleman. He took a moment to admire the young ruler in front of him, 'the blood of the First Men', indeed he thought to himself admirably.

 

"That land was given to House Karstark to award their loyalty by the Kings of Winter...my forebears, Lord Karstark. As Queen in the North, as the chosen ruler of the North, it is in my power to take them back. Do not speak to me of what belongs to whom in the North - the North runs in my very veins.", Arya declared.

Not once had Arya raised her voice during what she said, but the softly spoken words had the effect of a sledgehammer. Standing before them was one whose lineage was as long as the age of the North, the Lords thought. This young, slender, beautiful girl could bring to bear the fury of winter itself upon her enemies and she had played a pivotal role in ending the Night King they recalled. It was why she had been chosen to lead the North.

 

"Your pardon, Your Grace", Lord Karstark said inclining his head, chastised.

Arya sat back down and Sansa saw why the Northmen seemed to hold her sister in such high regard because she had taken an impossible situation and turned it upon its head, Sansa thought proudly.

 

"I understand your concern Lord Karstark, about the land. But now is the time for Northerners to work together. Karhold and Oldcastle derive their main income from trade. That doesn't necessarily mean that either of you has to lose any payment, perhaps if House Locke could agree to return the courtesy House Karstark extends by allowing the use of their land...the matter at hand could be settled peacefully.", Arya concluded as she looked to Lord Locke.

 

"It would be our honour, Your Grace", Lord Locke stated respectfully.

 

Arya smiled and stood up. She walked down the steps to stand amongst her bannermen and said, "It is settled then. Stay and enjoy our hospitality, if there is anything you want you need only ask. I shall meet you in the Great Hall at dusk for a feast thrown in your honour. You have made me very happy. May the Gods smile upon the hand of friendship your two houses have extended to each other this day."

The Lords and their men thanked her and left to discuss the details of their trade among themselves.

 

"We live to fight another day, Your Grace", Lord Davos uttered laughingly as soon as the Hall emptied.

 

"You did well sister.", Sansa said drawing closer.

 

"I believe it was you who told me that sometimes a ruler needs to throw their weight around a little.", Arya replied throwing her arm around her sister's shoulder.

 

"A little? That was a little? I half expected you to start prattling off titles like Daenerys. I am Arya, Queen in the North, Wearer of Faces, Killer of the Night King, Leader of Wolves and Men, Wintersbane...and so on.", Sansa shot back smiling.

 

Even Lord Davos could not hold back a chuckle at Sansa's teasing. Arya looked at her sister fondly, thankful to have her by her side, "I'd be careful if I were you Lady Hand. You are supposed to be the 'master-manipulator' and skilled politician. Yet you barely said a word."

 

"Yes well, to manipulate one needs to be able to speak", Sansa declared, at which Arya laughed. Sansa continued to say the perhaps the reason the North was still safe from Southern politics was that the Southern Lords probably never could get a word in the argument.

 

"The North is unlike the South, dear sister. Now, please tell me there are no other land disputes awaiting me."

 

"No land disputes, Your Grace...However, there's the matter of Wintertown's farmers and their bulls."

 

"Brilliant", Arya said with sarcasm as she walked back to her Throne. “More bulls. Very well then, let's see what their complaints are." She motioned for Lord Davos to bring in the next claimant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presenting chapter 6. A few changes here and there.  
> Hopefully, you guys will like this edit too. 
> 
> Also, the chapter was written and posted in a hurry. So please excuse any and all errors, I will be correcting them as soon as I get the time. 
> 
> Enjoy :D


	7. Chapter 7

**_“Remembering. Forgetting. I'm not sure which is worse.” -- Kelley Armstrong_ **

 

 

_She held her ground, defending the gates of Winterfell. Corpses littered the field, creating a grotesque patchwork of violence. The fields beyond Winterfell ran red._

_In the distance, she saw her fellow Northerners fighting with all their strength joined by the Dothraki, the Unsullied and the army from the Vale. All who cared to preserve the world they lived in were now fighting, side by side, against the darkness and the army of the dead. During the heat of battle, she had lost track of Nymeria, yet, she knew Nymeria still lived, she could feel her. She'd lost sight of Jon as well she realised as panic erupted inside her. She tried to find him, however, the long night had engulfed the sun and night reigned over the North._

_'Fear cuts deeper than swords', she thought to herself and charged forward drawing her blade as she went. Bran had given her two weapons, both made of Valyrian Steel. One was a dagger that she rarely used but always carried. The other was Dark Sister. The sword Visenya Targaryen had wielded once. The thought gave her strength because it was as if all her heroes charged towards the enemy with her. A Dothraki warrior was unseated from his horse, directly ahead of her. Such was her worry that she ran and seated herself on the horse without waiting to see if the Dothraki rider was fine._

_Sword in hand, she urged the horse forward, riding into the thick of battle. Dark Sister cut through wights as light cuts through the dark and they fell before her rage. In her urgency, she did not notice the wight giant coming towards her. In the giant's hand was an enormous club with barbarous looking spikes. To and fro, the giant swung the club, killing with deadly efficiency. It cut through armour as if it was skin and spattered the snow crimson._

_Arya realized her error when she missed the swinging club by inches. Her steed, however, was not as fortunate as the club caught it's side and the power behind the swing lifted the horse off the ground._

_Her back met the cold, hard ground with force. She lay there on the ground dazed. The fall had winded her but she did not have the luxury to tarry. No sooner had she regained some semblance of sense, she heard a screech. Following the sound, Arya saw a wight heading towards her. To her horror, she found one of her legs trapped beneath the horse and no matter how hard she tried, she could not free herself. Struggling to sit, her hand closed on her sword first, which lay nearby. As the wight drew closer Arya braced herself. Though, before she had the chance to defend herself, a war-hammer took the wight's head off._

_"My lady", her saviour called out to her "the battlefield is no place for rolling on the ground carelessly."_

_"Shut up, stupid!" Arya shouted back. "Come here and help me up Gendry."_

_"As m'lady commands", Gendry stated walking towards her._

_Gendry lifted the carcass of the horse slightly allowing Arya to slip her foot free. She stood up immediately to make sure she could put weight on the leg._

_"Is your leg all right?" Gendry asked._

_"It's fine," Arya answered back curtly as the battle waged all around them. Her leg was not broken but it throbbed fiercely and pain tightened her voice._

_"Have you seen Jon?"_

_"Last I saw, His Grace was riding his horse towards the Dragon-queen and her dragons."_

_Arya looked up to the sky and saw only darkness._

_"Where are they?" she asked out loud._

_Just then a loud screech rent the air. All of a sudden, the temperature dropped even further and the cold seemed to seep into her very bones. A white shadow seemed to move in the clouds above them now, followed by flashes of bright, blue light. She saw the men far off in the distance start to run towards them screaming something all at once._

_"What's happening?" she asked urgently looking at Gendry._

_"Run Arya!" was all that Gendry said as he dragged her back the other way._

_Arya tried to break free of his hold shouting, "Let me go! I have to find Jon."_

_"They're screaming at us to fall back. We have to move," Gendry said tightening his grip._

_"I don't care!" Arya screamed still struggling to break free._

_But when Gendry's grip slackened she looked at him to find him staring at something in the sky in the near distance. Out of the clouds, there appeared a dragon and unlike Daenery's dragons, this one was pale white. As the dragon drew closer, she could make out a rider sitting atop the dragon. Both rider and dragon had bright blue eyes._

_"The Night King", Arya whispered and from atop the dragon the Night King looked...straight at her._

_._

_._

_._

_._

  
Arya came awake with a gasp. It was not the first time she had dreamed of the horrors of the long night. Throwing back the covers, she climbed out of bed and realised she was soaked with sweat. Walking towards the window, she threw it open and breathed the early morning air.

The fields beyond Winterfell were starting to turn deep green, heralding the arrival of spring. All was well now, but the long night haunted her still. Feeling ill at ease, she decided to leave her chambers intending to go to the Godswood. Once there, she sat leaning against the rock in front of the heart tree. Arya still found it difficult to believe sometimes that they had truly defeated the army of the dead. She found it hard to believe that she delivered the blow that had killed the Night King.

She could remember the scene clearly even now. Bran had been not a few feet from where she was now, next to heart tree, surrounded by wights as the Night King approached him slowly. At that moment, all her power had been focused on saving Bran before the Night King could reach him. One minute she was frozen still with fear and the next she was racing towards Bran as fast as her feet could carry her.

"Clever girls go bare feet", Syrio had told her once, and so she had. The minute she had learned about the castle's defences failing and Winterfell being overrun, she had rushed towards the Godswood. Not before taking her boots off though. The ground was freezing cold, but stealth was a weapon she needed more than warmth. All she knew was that she could not falter again. She had failed to save her family at King's Landing and again at the Twins, but, she could not fail a third time.

Somehow she had managed to stab the Night King before he could kill Bran. However, she had no inkling of what happened next because she fainted right after. She was later informed that she had remained unconscious for two days, and her left arm had been ice-cold to touch. When she'd been well enough to venture from her chambers to the grounds outside, leaning on Nymeria for support, she saw all the Northerners had assembled to greet her.

As soon as they'd caught sight of her, they had bent to their knees in gratitude and reverence as shouts of 'Stark' and 'Winterfell' rent the air. Arya recalled seeing the Dragon-Queen stiffen as if in anger when the Northern Lords had gone to their knees. At that moment dread had coiled in her belly because she understood that, while they had won their battle against the dead the issue of Northern Independence was still undecided.

Not long after that, Jon revealed he would marry Daenerys and go South. Not being a true-born son of Eddard Stark, he had no claim to the North or Winterfell. Arya remembered feeling rage at his decision. Were they so easy to overlook, she had asked Jon? Eddard Stark's son or not, he was still every bit a Stark as any of them she pleaded. He remained adamant though that his place was in the South. Seeing him leave everything behind, leave her behind so easily had broken her heart. Even now, she mourned his loss. She knew he belonged with them, with her, at Winterfell. No one could convince her otherwise, not even Jon. It stung even now that he left when she had fought for years to find her way back home - to him. Despite her best efforts, her worst fear had come true nevertheless. She had lost another of her pack. Perhaps losing Jon hurt the most - because unlike her father, mother and brother, Jon chose to leave her. He once said that different paths might lead to the same castle. He was wrong. While their paths had been entwined, they had never been joined.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes nothing :D


	8. Chapter 8

_ **“Truthfulness so often goes with ruthlessness. ”  -- Dodie Smith** _

 

 

 

Days passed one after the other, and all appeared to seem well in the realm. Arya felt guilty for thinking so, but the calm and quiet surrounding her somehow set her on edge. She told Sansa as much while they were strolling through the glass gardens.

"You worry too much Arya", was the reply she had received. Yet Arya could not rid herself of the feeling that they were about to receive some manner of ill report.

Her dreams continued to plague her. On most nights she dreamt of the past. However, recently she began dreaming of a blood moon and a red sky cast above Winterfell. She had the same dream three nights in a row. The next morning she made her way towards the Godswood to get Bran's judgement on the matter.

She had half a mind to turn around and pay no attention to the dream. She could see Bran's reaction in her mind, somewhere between mockery and amusement, "I'm not entirely a fortune teller sister", he would say. Still, she felt strangely compelled to tell Bran about her vision. She found him exactly where she knew he would be, with his chair next to the Heart tree. She noticed his eyes were closed and so she approached him silently.

Despite, being as quiet as she could be the minute she sat down, next to the rock placed near the tree, his eyes opened.

"Ah sister", he said smiling, "I've been expecting you. You're here to ask me to solve a mystery for you."

"Are you asking or informing me brother?", Arya stated grinning.

Bran raised his eyebrow and stated "Both". "What are you worried about now?"

"My dreams, they have been strange of late. I keep dreaming about a red moon and a red sky cast above Winterfell. There is not much else in the dream truth be told. The sight of Winterfell flooded with a soft red glow looks rather beautiful. Still, I wake up feeling anxious as if the dream is some sort of sign, a grim portent of things to come", Arya explained.

"It has been said that red is the colour of the old gods. Perhaps what you perceive to be a grim portent isn't one. Mayhaps, it is a glad tiding, a herald of victory."

"A herald of victory would first require a struggle brother or worse a battle."

"Possibly," Bran said after a moment's silence. "On the other hand, was it not you who prayed to the old gods for a greater and stronger North?"

Arya stared at him as if surprised and then realized who her brother was. Instead, she said, "You do realize you've only grown  
more annoying with age?"

She smiled as stood, looking at him fondly and said only, "Thank you, Bran."

"You know I live only to serve you, Your Grace", Bran said playfully, sounding like his old self again. "Go on", he urged  
"Sansa is about to run amok looking for you."

Arya was still laughing as she walked away from him.

 

* * *

 

 

Entering the throne room Arya saw Sansa, Lord Davos and Nymeria. Out of the three only Nymeria seemed to look calm.

Sansa and Lord Davos wore weighty expressions.

"Surely I am not all that late" she japed, trying to lighten the mood. It did not work.

She sighed and turned around to shut the doors to the room. Once done with that, she walked promptly to where both her advisors stood and asked, "What has happened?"

Lord Davos spoke first. "Unsettling news from the Dreadfort, Your Grace."

"The Dreadfort is under the control of the Hornwoods now, and Larence Hornwood is a loyal man. Of that, I am sure.", Arya said.

"There are reports from areas surrounding Hornwood that claim Lord Larence has been killed or barring that he has been taken captive," Sansa stated holding out a letter. While Arya read she continued, " This missive arrived from House Manderly this morning. In it, Lord Manderly writes that his men reported a host bearing the banners of House Dustin set sail for an undisclosed location."

"He thinks this host has set sail for the Dreadfort ?"

Lord Davos nodded and added, "They set off five nights ago."

"This makes little sense. You are telling me Lady Dustin marched her men all the way to White Harbor under our noses, and then commanded them to sail to Dreadfort. Why would she do that?" Arya asked.

"Lady Dustin's sister was married to Roose Bolton. Before the tide turned during the Battle for Winterfell, House Dustin had declared for House Bolton.", Sansa reasoned.

"As did a lot of other Houses, House Manderly included. However, we know now, that these Houses were loyal to House Stark all along.", Arya said.

"Some of them were. Barbary Dustin hates our father, this much is common knowledge. She bears an intense hatred against him for not bringing Lord Dustin's bones back with him, from Dorne. She has gone as far to say, that had it been in her power she would not have let father's bones return to Winterfell at all."

"I have no love lost for that woman Sansa but were she to try and take over the Dreadfort she would place herself in an impossible situation. With her surrounded on both fronts, by the Umbers, Karstarks and Manderlys on one front and by the Glovers, Starks and Reeds on the other."

"That is a fair point, my Queen. However, Lord Manderly has also reported that those ships have landed at the Dreadfort's port."

"How is it that Lord Manderly did not write to us about this sooner?" Arya asked.

"He begs your pardon and writes that the report of Lord Larence was received only yestermorn. Before then, they had no reason to suspect Lady Dustin's true intentions." Lord Davos explained.

"Seven Hells! Write to Lord Manderly and tell him in no uncertain terms that any movement that takes place in the North needs to be reported to us. After this matter is over, I'll have a word with him about his scouts. As to Lady Dustin, she seems to have lost the little sense she retained in her dotage.", Arya said agitatedly.

"What are we to do next?" Sansa asked.

"What do you both suggest?"

"I shall write to all our bannermen, explaining the situation. We should also ask them to gather as much information about this matter and Lord Larence's disappearance and to report to it back to us, posthaste." Sansa said.

"Is there any news about that state of affairs in Hornwood? What of Lord Larence's family and his men?" Arya asked.

"There has been no news as yet.", Lord Davos replied.

"Very well. Lord Davos, I need to speak to our men and ask them to be prepared for all eventualities. I want the guard around Winterfell doubled. Assign suitable men to watch our borders night and day. Allow nothing to move, lest we know about it first.", Arya commanded.

"I'll go speak to Maester about our correspondence.", Sansa said as moved to leave the room.

"Something doesn't feel right about this, Lord Davos. Lady Dustin is a sharp old crow who knows the game only too well. Her hatred of my father maybe deep but that does not explain why she would risk the well-being of her entire House on a fight she knows she can not win?"

"Hatred and anger make a person do strange things, Your Grace." came his reply.

"Any news from The Rills? Lord Ryswell is Lady Dustin's brother."

"No news yet. I think for the moment we should prepare ourselves and gather as much information as we can."

"Agreed."

  
Once Arya was alone in the room, she walked up to the steps leading to the throne, with Nymeria following her footsteps. As she sat there lost in her thoughts she felt Nymeria nudge her legs as if to reassure her.

'I pray for a stronger North and instead I receive news of a possible mutiny among my bannermen.', Arya thought as she rubbed her temples. She recalled Bran telling her red was the colour of the old gods, but it was also the colour of blood. What remained to be seen was whether the red of her dreams signified the blood of her enemies or theirs?

 

* * *

 

 

Winterfell had been constructed to withstand attacks and sieges from enemies. It had been built to stand the test of time. It was not merely a castle, it was a network of structures protected by two imposing walls. Walls, which were now fortified by archers and guards who stood watch night and day.

Inside the complex was the great keep, where the Queen and her family resided. The folk who lived inside the castle knew their Queen had received troubling news, the sudden increase in protection around Winterfell was proof of that. They noted as ravens and messengers came and went at all times of the day. However, what increased their concern was the fact that they had not seen their Queen leave the keep for days now.

"You should have stopped her from leaving", Sansa said to both Bran and Lord Davos. "The people have begun to notice her absence even if they do not speak of it yet."

"Arya can take care of herself, Sansa. I would not worry if I were you. Besides, she has been gone for almost a fortnight. She should be home any day now.", Bran replied.

"There are very few who can change the Queen's mind once it is made, my Lady. Unfortunately, I can not count myself amongst such people.", Lord Davos stated, looking apologetic.

"She should never have ventured out. She is Queen now, she has responsibilities to her people and she's all alone out there - in the bloody Barrowlands. If she gets captured, Gods! I can not even think about all that can go wrong with this exploit of hers."

"Sansa, two things to remember. First, you need to breathe. Second, Arya has abilities most do not know about and can not fathom. She will return soon.", Bran said.

"She had better, I'm running out of excuses to explain her sudden inclination to stay indoors."

 

* * *

 

 

The hour was late when the guard atop the wall of the castle saw a rider approaching. He raised the alarm and saw the torches lining the wall, next to the gate being lit. The rider was not alone the guard noticed from his position on the wall. Although whoever the other traveller was, was not faring too well, he thought to himself, noticing how the figure was slumped forward. The drawbridge was lowered slowly and the rider entered the complex going past the second wall that surrounded the inner castle. The rider dismounted and threw back the hood of their cloak. 

"Your Grace", stammered one of them. "We did not know you had ventured out of..."

"We can discuss that later. For now, get Maester Wolkan for me....hurry!"

Arya turned to the other soldiers standing nearby and asked them to help her in moving their guest to the Great Keep. Suddenly, the castle was wide awake. Servants were scurrying around the fortress on instructions of the maester. Arya had given Maester Wolkan instructions to find her after he had attended to the injured man. She went straight to her chambers and asked her advisors to meet her there immediately.

Nymeria after discovering her presence in the keep and had come bounding towards her. Arya was just as happy to see Nymeria, she had missed her, but she could hardly have taken her direwolf on the mission she had set out on.

A knock sounded in the room and Arya permitted whomever it was to enter. Maester Wolkan entered her chambers and reported that the visitor had been tended for.

"The wounds were not deep, Your Grace. He will be well again quite soon with proper care."

"Thank you. Take good care of him and try and get him better as soon as possible."

As Arya was talking to the maester, Lord Davos, Sansa and Bran joined them. Once the maester had left, Sansa asked surprised, "You found him then?"

"I told you to trust me. Lord Larence is well-tended to, and I've given Maester Wolkan instructions to aid him back to health as quickly as possible.", Arya stated smiling.

"A glad-tiding", Bran said. "The old gods have favoured you, sister."

"This business is not over yet, Bran. By now, the Lady of Barrowton knows her captive has gone missing. Though, it is imperative that we proceed with our plans immediately,  
now that she no longer has Lord Larence to use as leverage."

"Lord Reed and Lord Manderly have both complied with the directions you left them. All is ready, and the Lords await your authorization.", Lord Davos informed them.

"Give them permission to proceed, and tell their Lordships in definitive terms that I want Lady Dustin brought to me alive and well. Ask them to only use as much force as is necessary and to harm none who are not involved in this scheme. I will not tolerate raping or pillaging and those who are found guilty of such will not be spared."

 

* * *

 

 

It had been more than three weeks since the night Arya had returned to Winterfell with Lord Larence. Her bannermen had all advised her to launch an attack on the Barrowlands, but once it had become clear that Lord Larence had been kept captive by House Dustin, Arya found she could not proceed.

All those times she had thought about her Lord Father and the choices leading up to the day of his death, she had judged him to be in the wrong. 'He should have put his family before the likes of Cersei and her ilk', she had thought. Yet, when such a choice had fallen to her, to decide between being ruthless to her enemy, though it might lead to the loss of innocent life and choosing to save an innocent, even though it could result in folly...she had surprised herself. By choosing, as her father once had. Only, by some stroke of fortune, she had come to possess skills that enabled her to wrest control of the situation.

Later that day Lord Davos informed her that host of riders had been scouted bearing the banners of House Manderly and Reed. When the party had arrived at Winterfell, their numbers consisted of at least sixty men. Amongst their number was a small wheelhouse, pulled by four horses. The wheelhouse was flanked by the riders from all sides.

Arya stood among a small group of Stark men that had assembled to receive the party, with Sansa at her side.

A rider dismounted and walked up to her, she recognised him as Lord Manderly's Captain of the Guards.

"We come bearing glad-tidings Your Grace. The attack on Barrow Hall was successful. We have brought Lady Dustin with us, as per your instructions. Lord Manderly and Lord Reed sent us ahead with the prisoner. They should be here before long."

  
"Has the Lady been treated well?", Arya asked.

"Yes, as well as can be treated. She has travelled not alone but with her lady-servant."

"You have my gratitude. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I'm sure the journey here was tiring."

Arya turned to Sansa, "Have Lady Dustin escorted to the chambers prepared for her."

"Chambers ?...she is a traitor, Arya! For all the trouble she has caused she deserves to be thrown in the cells."

"She has yet to stand trial and I will not throw a woman of her age into the cells. You may personally prepare her meals if you wish, that might be punishment enough.", Arya japed.

Sansa stared at her sister disgustedly and walked away.

 

* * *

 

 

Arya entered Lady Dustin's assigned chambers after having asked permission to enter.

"I was wondering when you would seek me out, Your Grace."

Arya observed Lady Dustin for a moment. She must have been handsome in her youth for some of that beauty still remained...though somewhat dimmed by the passage of time. She had an austereness about her features though and in her eyes there lingered a hint of cruelty.

"Why did you do it? You must have known that you would never have been able to win?", Arya asked.

"There are all sorts of victories and defeats, My Queen. With time you will learn."

"Is that so? Well then, perhaps you could educate me. What victory were you trying to pursue? Surely your hatred of my father could not have warranted the action you took?"

"Your father?...no, no, Your Grace. I did not hate your father, I loathed him. Just as I loathe your House, everything that you stand for. You think yourselves to be noble, just and fair. Yet, your family has more than a share of innocent blood on their hands...", Barbery Dustin stated venomously.

"Whose blood?"

"Do you not know, darling child what your Uncle Brandon did to me? He took my maidenhead, ruined my honour and left me...to get betrothed to Catelyn Tully. Apparently, the honour of a young girl was not as great as the Southern ambitions of Lord Rickard. When fate finally smiled upon me, with my marriage to Lord Dustin - your father took him South, to his death and returned only with my lord husband's horse. His horse!"

"And there was honour in what you did?", Arya asked. "You needlessly shed blood, killed men, took the Lord of House Hornwood captive and you would have killed him, had the situation called for it. You have no right to stand before me and accuse me and mine of being unjust when you have no concept of the word. Not only were you unjust, but you were also foolish. You would never have prevailed."

"Oh, but I would have, Your Grace. You see, I'm the last remaining member of House Dustin. After me, the lands will go to whichever imbecile who licks your heels best. I have nothing to lose. But you, My Queen, you have everything to lose. I know you, just like I knew your father before you. The honourable Eddard Stark. He was a fool. I knew you would never have attacked Barrow Hill as long as I possessed that fool of a Hornwood. You would have disregarded the advice of all your bannermen and you would have turned the Dreadfort over to me. All to save the life of one measly Lord. Because that is how your Lord Father raised you. To do the right thing.", Lady Dustin stated with condescension. "All I needed to win, was to show the North and all of Westeros how weak the Queen in the North truly is. A little blood in the water and the monsters would have savaged you."

Arya walked up to where the old woman was seated and put her hands on the sides of the chair as she leaned down to look her in the eyes.

"People often forget, 'winter is coming', is more than just a reminder of hard times. It also represents the wrath we can bring to bear upon our enemies. House Stark has ruled the North for more than eight thousand years...not just because we are honourable...but also because our justice is swift and harsh. Had my father raised us differently, your head would now be lying separate from your body and your lands and all that was in it would have been pillaged and destroyed. Look into my eyes, Lady Dustin. **I-am-the-monster**. All your planning and scheming came to nought because you have no idea of what or who I am. They killed the child my father raised when they took his head...the woman who stands before you now...was raised from the blood of the enemies of House Stark."

At her words Arya observed Lady Dustin's colour blanch a little. She let go of the arms of the chair and straightened herself. Only now did the old woman realise the error of her ways, when it was too late.  
  
"If the pallor of your skin is any indication it seems you, at last, understand your delusion. I am not my Father, Barbery Dustin. I am what my people need me to be.", Arya stated as she moved towards the door. "Sleep well, Lady. Your time will come and with it your judgement."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 approacheth :D


	9. Chapter 9

** _“Love is a force unto itself, sayyidi. For love, people consider the unthinkable...and often achieve the impossible. I would not sneer at its power.”  -- Renee Ahdieh_ **

 

 

"I understand you are leaving for Winterfell soon." 

Jon turned to see Daenerys entering his chambers as the guard posted at the door shut it behind her. His expression which until her arrival had been of elation morphed to barely concealed disdain.

"Your Grace", he said with a hint of derision "I am certain you did not have to bother yourself, merely to ask me that. Seeing as I had informed Tyrion, who no doubt has briefed you. Which begs the question - what hell are you doing in my chambers ?"

He saw Daenerys' eyes narrow slightly and then she shrugged her shoulders. "I know how much you enjoy my company, husband", she said as she sauntered closer to him. She reached out to take his hand in her own, her expression revealing all the while that she knew exactly of Jon's aversion to her touch. "I realise we are well beyond niceties in our marriage. Still, I like to pretend sometimes, that you do not loathe my very existence."

Jon moved out of her reach before her hand could stray to his face. "Pretend away. _You are rather good at it_ ", he stated, turning his back to her. He sighed, feeling sick at the state of his life. He turned to look at his _wife,_ feeling nothing but displeasure. "Why are you here, Daenerys? I have little patience for these games of yours. State your reasons and leave me be."

Daenerys felt anger lick at her veins. She was renowned for her beauty in all the kingdoms, men vied for her attention and yet, the one man she wanted to beguile could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. She had all but forced him to wed her, thinking that eventually, she would win him over. Once, long ago, at Dragonstone he had been amenable to her. He had not lain with her even then, though she had made it clear that she was more than willing. Then she'd travelled North with her armies to aid his people in the War for the Dawn. What she saw of him there made him all the more fascinating to her. He was devoted to his family and his people. Though he clearly loved one person beyond devotion and that was Arya Stark. Their relation made her envious. She, who had grown up with Viserys. Her own brother had had no notion of the word, love.

The more she saw Jon Snow with Arya Stark, the more she wanted the adulation he showered on his sister, to be hers. It had taken her some time to realise that Jon Snow loved Arya Stark, not just as a sister...but as a man loves a woman and that his love was returned in full. Though, she could tell neither of them had acted upon their feelings. The result of Ned Stark's unyielding upbringing no doubt. She had gone to lengths even then to win Jon's affection, if not his love. But, every time his grey eyes moved in her direction they were intolerably blank.  

Once his bloodline had been revealed, she knew it was a matter of time before Jon acted on his feelings. Thus, she had all but twisted his arm to make him wed her. She used against him the one thing she knew he held dear above all else...the safety of his love. She was well aware even then that coercing him had only increased his ire at her, but she'd gambled nonetheless. Thinking that once he had moved from the North, her love would make him forget his feelings for Arya, little by little. How wrong she had been then, she thought. His love for Arya had not faded, only grown...as if the distance between them had amplified his yearning. He was a Stark through and through, but in his obsession for Arya, she saw glimpses of Rhaegar in him. Rhaegar Targaryen had almost laid waste to Westeros for Lyanna Stark. Sometimes, she thought Jon was capable of the same.

What was it about love that drove men and women to madness? she thought to herself. He would not let go of his love knowing he was caught in an impossible situation and she would not let go of her obsession for Jon, knowing he would he never be hers. She had constantly thought of Drogo in the early days of her marriage. Where her sun-and-stars had loved her for her beauty, had worshipped her body during their time together, Jon had all but bedded her once. Out of duty. He had lain with her to legalise their union and left her chambers almost as soon as the deed was done. As if he could not bear what he'd done. His lack of emotion towards her had angered to no extent and then Arya Stark had shown up for their coronation. _He had come alive then_. Daenerys stopped her train of thoughts before she could think of what her anger had led her to do. She could not - would not look back.

Instead, she steeled herself and brought herself back to the present.

"The council brought up the subject of heirs again today", she stated calmly.

She felt rather than heard him sigh. "What of it?", he asked wearily.

"I had hoped that my womb would quicken when we wed. Had I been able to conceive, I would have already."

"You mean because your bed has so rarely been empty? Yes, I am aware.", Jon said with cynicism. A moment later he bent his head a little and said, "That was cruel of me. I'm sorry."

Daenerys looked at Jon steadily, "Had you shown me a hint of affection, I would never have turned to anyone else." A beat later she asked, "Was there ever a chance for us?"

Jon thought of Arya, and how he'd almost lost her, shook his head. He would never forgive Daenerys for harming Arya.

"The realm needs heirs", Daenerys said softly.

"I do not see how I can help with that."

"Many options were presented by the Lords.", she cleared her throat and continued "You could take on a mistress and get her with child. We could legitimize the babe after it is born."

Jon stared at her as his eyes cooled and said only, "Never."

"You must ..." but Daenerys was interrupted before she could complete what she'd been about to say.

"You have my answer. I left the only home I've ever known to see you get the Iron Throne. I will not sell my dignity and act a stud for the sake of it." Jon walked to the door and pulled it open. Silently waiting for Daenerys to leave.

Daenerys thought to say something but then relented. He would not listen to anything she had to say on the matter now. Perhaps Tyrion could change his mind later. She slowly walked towards the doors where Jon stood and stopped to look at him a moment. He did not deign to meet her eyes. She walked out and heard the door shut behind her firmly. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Chapter 9 is not exactly very long. But I couldn't really place it with the chapters that are coming next.  
> It is a little filler-y, but it was necessary to lay some groundwork for the future. Not to mention quite a few readers  
> had asked about the dynamics of Jon and Daenerys's relationship.  
> So here it is. Hopefully, you're gonna like it.
> 
> As always please excuse any errors ( I will take care of them eventually :D) and enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

_**“You have brought me back to myself.” -- Kamand Kojouri** _

 

 

The morning brought with it a bright sun, despite the slight bite of chill in the air. The trial of Lady Dustin had been concluded only the night before. She had been found guilty of treason, against her fellow Northerners and her Queen. The Northern Lords present for the trial were now assembled in the field for the Queen's justice to be carried out.

Mounted on her horse, Arya watched Barbery Dustin being led to the block placed on a makeshift dais. Once Lady Dustin was on her knees before the block, Arya dismounted and proceeded her. Lord Davos walked along beside her with Ice in his hands. Before climbing the dais, Arya removed her gloves and gave them to Lord Davos, who in turn handed her House Stark's Valyrian steel sword.

Arya walked slowly to where Lady Dustin was kneeling and stated, "Lady Barbery Dustin, you have been tried by a party of your peers, and have been found guilty of treason according to Northern decrees. Do you have any last words?"

Barbery Dustin stared straight ahead and said, "You are no Queen of mine!"

Ice weighed heavy in her hands as Arya nodded. Soon after, a soldier placed Lady Dustin's head on the block. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Arya said, "In the name  
of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and by the word of Arya of the House Stark, Queen in the North, I do sentence you to die."

The wind whistled softly as Arya raised Ice with both her hands. The steel glinted in the sun for a few seconds before the sword flew down in single, firm stroke. As blood flowed, spilling from the dais on to the snow-dusted ground, Arya thought to herself, ' _red is the colour of the old gods._ '

 

* * *

 

By the time all the Lords had departed from Winterfell to journey to their respective keeps, a fortnight had passed. After the execution, the matter of the Barrowlands and its succession had to be resolved. It had been decided that Lord Ryswell, Lady Dustin's brother would take over the responsibility as Lord of Barrow Hill for the foreseeable future.

Things calmly returned to their routine. The fields were being made ready for harvest and they'd received a welcome response from the Sea Lord of Braavos. A trade pact with the city had nearly been completed. The North had wool, hides and timber aplenty to barter with the Free City for food and other supplies. After many tedious council meetings, it had been decided that the land tax collected by the crown would continue at its curtailed rate. Several Lords were not pleased by this decision but had relented eventually. The one thing Arya had learned from her time spent amongst the commoners was that the poor bore the brunt of an unjust system. It was a risky decision, but she wanted to promote a better way of life for all her people, not just the rich. This is where the trade pact with Braavos had helped tip the scales in her favour. She had argued for an increase in revenue via trade. Braavos could the first of many cities they could look to for enterprise she had stated.

Matter of state were made bearable due to her sister's diplomacy and Lord Davos's honest counsel. Arya tolerated the politics involved in the process but she had little liking for it. It seemed that just as soon as one issue was resolved another took its place, and that was pattern their lives took on.

One particular evening they'd gathered to sup in the Great Hall when a guard came scurrying at their table. 

"Your Grace", he panted, "riders bearing the Targaryen banners are headed this way."

Arya felt her head buzzing and her heart pick up speed.

"How many riders?", she asked.

"At least thirty men.", came the answer.

"It's Jon.", Bran spoke up from his seat and Arya turned to look at him with astonishment.

"You knew?", Arya questioned him, feeling a little betrayed.

Bran shook his head, "I invited him."

"Perhaps the invitation should have been announced, Bran. We are not prepared to receive a King", Sansa responded incredulously.

"This is not a state-related visit I deem.", Bran predicted, looking at Arya, who was glaring at him.

"This is beyond ridiculous. What were you thinking?", Arya asked.

"Perhaps I just felt like seeing my cousin?"

"Perhaps pigs fly.", Arya spat angrily walking out the door.

Rather than waiting, Arya asked for her horse to be brought to her. She mounted the steed and ordered for the draw-bridge to be lowered.

"I should accompany you, Your Grace", Lord Davos appeared next to her. He seemed out of breath like he had run to catch up.

Arya smiled as she observed him gasping. "You're welcome to Lord Davos. If you can keep up," she said and with that, she nudged her horse and raced towards the drawbridge.

Lord Davos sighed as he watched Nymeria loping after the rider. He decided to wait for her return. She was safe enough with her direwolf, not to mention their Queen rode like a demon, and he had no intention of dealing with a raw backside.

 

* * *

 

 

The moon provided more than enough light for Arya to ride freely. She only slowed her steed as she neared the party. Just ahead of the riders was Jon.

Jon, whom she had not seen in years. He looked...beautiful she thought achingly. To her, he was one of the most handsome men of her acquaintance. The South has not changed him, she thought to herself as she observed his garb. As Jon aged, he looked more and more like her Lord Father. Ned Stark had possessed an innate nobility, Jon, it appeared, had been blessed with the same gift.

  
Moments later, she gently pulled the reins and came to stop. Wanting him to move towards her. She wasn't a child anymore, she decided, to go running into his arms. She was a woman-grown, more than that, she was a Queen.

When he drew closer, Jon stopped his horse, dismounted and walked towards her swiftly. Before she could say anything he had her off her mount and standing before him. His arms closed around her with surprising force as his face was burrowed in her neck. Despite herself, Arya could feel her eyes growing wet as her own arms wrapped around his waist firmly.

"I've missed you, Arya," he said and when he pulled his head back to look in her eyes, she saw the truth reflected in them.

He set her on her feet and moved back to get a better at her.

"You look beautiful, Your Grace. Just as I imagined you would, winter's queen."

Now that his arms were no longer around her, she felt the memories rushing back...along with the cold.

"Why have you come, Jon?", she felt herself ask.

She saw her words hurt him, but she could not bring herself to feel sad about it. Ere Jon could answer, the rest of his riding party came galloping by. They all stopped where she and Jon stood out of respect. Arya looked at them to see if there was a familiar face.

Her gaze landed on Sandor Clegane.

"Ser Sandor, you are a long way from home," she said smiling.

"Aye, that I am, Your Grace. But where the King goes...I follow", the Hound replied.

An awkward silence had descended after that, she realised and felt her anxiety grow. She wished she could run and hide like she used to as a child. She did not want to be near Jon.

"Liar", her heart whispered.

"Let us be on our way. Winterfell awaits you, Your Grace", Arya said suddenly as she moved to mount her horse.

Jon looked disappointed, but he nodded his head and made himself ready to ride once again.

Arya felt herself breathe a little easier as they were riding towards Winterfell's grey walls. Her thought as they entered the courtyard was, 'What will I do now?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter...no way!  
> Yayy...extended vacations mean more time to write and finally, Jon has dragged his butt to Winterfell (though it's more like he rode like a demon to get to Winterfell...the boy was in a hurry!)  
> Upcoming chapters will have lots of Jonrya...which is basically what we love best.
> 
> For those of you wondering why was there so much written about the way Arya rules...that's mostly because I'm sick of hearing about how she's only good at killing people. Clearly, some people have not read the damn books. So this chapter is dedicated to all the Arya-haters out there (and the ones who so patiently take out the time to write horrible stuff that I just delete). You're not gonna change my mind, folks. Happy reading and peace out!


	11. Chapter 11

** _But we’re all like that, aren’t we? We’re all barbarians at our core. We’re all savage, murderous beasts. I know I am. I’m sure you are. The only difference between us, Mr Prave, is how loudly we roar. I know I roar very loudly indeed. How about you? Do you think you can match me?”_ _\-- Derek Landy_ **

 

 

 

The moment he saw the rider coming towards them at break-neck speed, he'd known it was Arya. Even as a child of nine she had been one of the best riders in the North. He watched as she masterfully slowed her horse and came to a stop, a little ahead of him. He realised suddenly, that Arya would not come running to him, or jump in his arms, as she used to when they were young. The difference made his heart ache.

Crossing into Northern territory, he'd felt like he was home again. Except, looking at Arya, he realised how wrong he'd been because his home had always been the girl who now waited for him, near the gates of Winterfell. He spurred his horse to go faster and wasn't entirely aware of when he brought his steed to a halt, or when he'd walked over to her. He remembered only pulling Arya off her horse and into his arms. 

The Northerners had hailed her many a time as _'Lyanna come again'_ and she did resemble the statue of his mother in the crypts. Though to him, Arya had a beauty that was entirely her own. Grey eyes that were so like his stared back at him, but they were so much more beautiful than his could ever be. Her hair had grown, not only longer but darker...and in the moonlight she seemed to glow like the moon. Had she always looked this enchanting he asked himself? The Winter Crown sat upon her head, made of bronze and iron. On a lesser woman, the crown would have taken away from her allure, but not so with Arya. The dark of her hair made the crown gleam brighter. His little Wolf was a Queen as bewitching as winter itself. 

When Arya had been young, she'd been an enchanting mixture of stubbornness and vivacity. Only two people had ever been successful at calming Arya when she unleashed her wrath. Those two people were him and Ned Stark. She'd always given Jon preference over her other family members. Which was likely why she was quick to forgive her other siblings if they'd done something to earn her displeasure, but not him. It would take weeks of coaxing and grovelling for her to forgive him. Jon could not help but smile when he thought of Arya as a babe. Where once her antics had made him smile, now her beauty enchanted him. He had adored her one way or another, for most of his life. Now he was in love with the woman she had become, and she very likely hated the man she thought he was. He was still drinking in the sight of her when she asked him why he'd bothered to come. Even though the words had cut, they could not take away the joy he felt just by being near her. He was deserving of her anger, but, now he grew weary of staying apart from her.

They weren't like the others, they had been outcasts together. Two halves of one whole.

 

* * *

 

 

Upon reaching Winterfell he had greeted and embraced his cousins. Yet, somewhere in the middle of all that, Arya had slipped away. Sansa and Bran were the ones to escort him to his chambers. 

"Are you glad to be back, cousin?". Bran asked smiling after Sansa had left them to see to arrangments for the assembly that had accompanied him.

"I am more than glad, Bran. It feels as if I can breathe freely again", Jon replied.

"May I ask you something, Jon?"

"Of course, you can little brother", Jon replied as he ruffled Bran's hair.

"How does it feel?"

Jon smiled and asked, "How does what feel?"

"To have died for her? Not once, but twice?" Jon could only stare at Bran silence. 

After a few moments, Bran continued, "I know what you're thinking, that, you were only ever brought back to life once. But there are all sorts of death, brother. The first death was felt by your body, the second by your soul."

"Bran, I...", Jon stammered but before he could find the words, they were interrupted by Sansa, who had brought servants with her. 

"I've arranged for some hot water for you to bathe, Jon. You've no doubt had a tiring journey. Tend to yourself first, and then rest. We will see you again bright and early, tomorrow morning", Sansa stated as she wheeled Bran out of his chambers.

Even after the servants had left, Jon remained fixed at his spot. Bran _knew_. He knew why he'd wedded and gone South. All the joy of being close to Arya slowly dissipated as he thought of how Arya would respond if she found  out the truth of what had happened before he went South.

Jon slowly removed his cloak, as if each movement weighed heavy on him. Suddenly he felt weary of life. I should _never have come back from the dead_. _All is different. There is a part of me now that is more beast than man - all rage, all passion and all intensity... I am not as I should be._ He sighed as he climbed into the bath prepared for him and stretched his limbs. He had seen what the darkness him was capable of. He did not remember in entirety exactly what had happened, but when the red mist surrounding his mind had dispersed, even the most stoic of Wildlings avoided meeting his gaze.

_And who could blame them?_

.

.

.

_Winterfell loomed ahead. He'd cut down anything that stopped him from reaching his goal. Ghost was beside him, feasting on the flesh of the Bolton Bastard's men. He had no idea how long he had been hacking away. All his concentration was directed on one thing only -- Arya. She will soon be with you, the voice inside him whispered, just as soon as he'd killed the bastard. _

_Soon enough, his men had broken through the gates of Winterfell and he was the first to enter the courtyard among them. Covered in blood from head to toe, he grasped Longclaw tighter as his gaze searched for his prey. The mongrel who dared touch her. She was not his. She would never be his. She was a wolf and she belonged with her pack. When he finally located Ramsay, he was standing behind a small number of guards. Using them as shields. Coward, the beast growled. Tormund and the wildlings made short work of the guards protecting Ramsay Bolton. Jon threw the shield he'd had on his arm until then to the ground. He walked up to the man who had been foolish enough to try and harm her. Ramsay Bolton drew his own sword from the scabbard and faced him. Jon could tell though, from the look in his eyes that he was afraid. Good, let him know what he has invited._

_When he was but a few steps away from Ramsay, he threw Longclaw to the ground. The dog did not deserve death by a sword...he did not deserve an honourable end. When Ramsay saw him unarmed, he moved forward and swung his sword, just as Jon wanted. Jon easily dodged the blade, caught Ramsay's sword hand and swung his fist in his face with all his weight behind it. When Jon saw the blood gush out of Ramsay's face, he smiled. He banged his head on Ramsay's nose again, just to make his pain greater and watched as Ramsay Bolton fell. Without giving him a chance to recover, Jon climbed on top of the man and released all his rage through his fists. Minutes later, his knuckles were bloody and sore but still, he kept on relentless. Jon stopped when he heard Lord Davos's voice asking him to cease because Ramsay Bolton had gone limp. There was no pleasure in beating the man now._

_As he moved back, he saw two soldiers rush forward towards Ramsay. To throw him in the cells, no doubt. The bastard had had a lucky escape. Jon was fully prepared to beat him to death if only to hear his grunts of pain._

  
_"She's an interesting woman, your sister", a voice wheezed behind Jon. "I had such fun breaking her. I'm sure you'll appreciate my handiwork when you see it."_

_Jon turned to see Ramsay being held up by the soldiers, but with a grotesque smile on his face. Jon's vision went red and fury coursed through him, heating his blood. He did not try to contain the darkness taking over this time. He revelled in it._

_"Dogs do not break wolves, bastard. It is time you learn that". Jon stroked Ghost's fur who was now stood beside him. I will make you wish you had never set eyes upon her. "Start with his feet first, and then move up. I want to hear him scream, boy". He looked at the soldiers holding Ramsay. "Let him go". He saw the soldiers move back at breakneck speed and Ramsay Bolton fell to his knees, unable to bear his own weight._

_Jon removed his hand from Ghost's neck and a second later, the direwolf was on the fallen man, as his screams echoed through the courtyard. Jon saw many men look away in horror, but he watched every second of the carnage. Until it was all over. S he was never your bride, his darkness whispered triumphantly._

_._

_._

_._

Raising his hands from the water, Jon stared at them. Expecting to see them soaked in blood even now. The aftermath of Ramsay's execution had men almost running to stay away from him. They feared him. Only Tormund had been brave enough to come to speak with him in his chambers. 

"Coming back to the living has changed you, Lord Crow. You've come back darker". he had said while offering him ale. "That is not too bad a deal if you ask me. A little darkness to offset that pretty face, and, to put the fear of Gods in our enemies. A dark man for dark times".

Tormund was right, Jon thought. Only the long night came and went but the darkness inside him lingered still. Always present, just beneath the surface of his subconscious -- waiting to break free. For the most part, I have learned how to control it, but there are times when I can not -- _when I do not want to_. Jon thought of Grey Worm and his death. He had not swung the sword in that particular instance...but he'd made sure that his ending was just as painful.

Jon recalled last thought before dying had been of Ghost. He suspected that he had warged his wolf just as his soul had left his body. Somehow his spirit had merged with that of his wolf. That would explain why the beast that resided within him was so possessive of Arya. More often than not, it would break through when she was threatened. 

Jon blew out the candles, leaving the room bathed in firelight emanating from the hearth. I am an abomination, he thought as he stared out the window. All his life they'd accused him of having a bastard's black heart. Now, it was true. 

 

* * *

 

The morning sun found him kneeling in front of the heart tree. With eyes closed and head bent, Jon heard rather than saw leaves stirring in the wind. The godswood at Winterfell was older and wilder than most. There was a raw power that lived within these trees, that drew the first men to them. As the wind blew stronger, the rustling of the leaves changed. Jon frowned, even as he kept his eyes closed. A thousand whispers seemed to flow around him now, all saying something at once. He tried to make out the words, not moving, barely breathing. Then all at once, the words became clear. 'I want my bride back' the voices whispered. Jon's eyes flew open as he leapt to feet. He saw that he was still alone in the stillness of the woods. _I must have imagined it._

Minutes later though, he was alerted of someone's arrival by the sound of footsteps. Seeing Bran, he smiled. Walking over to Bran he dismissed the guard and pushed Bran's wheelchair the rest of the way himself.

"I thought I'd find you here", Bran spoke as Jon seated himself on a rock in front of him.

"I couldn't sleep". _I rarely sleep_. "What about you? What was it that had you seeking me?"

"I wanted to speak with you, about a great many things. Foremost, however, is the reason why you left the North".

"Bran, what's done is done. What does it matter why I left? The North is free, Winterfell is safe, and you are happy. That is all the matters".

"Are we truly safe, brother? Are you happy? You thought you could lie and bear the consequences. You thought wrong, and in doing so, you have harmed not only yourself but also my sister".

"Is something wrong? Is Arya alright?" Jon asked.

Bran smiled as he looked at Jon. "You are not as you imagine yourself to be. You are no beast, no abomination. There is no need to punish yourself, Jon."

"I am not as I should be".

"Everything is as it should be, including you. The paths that led us home were all dark. We were all changed by it, some more than others. If you truly were the monster you think yourself to be, tell me how were you able to leave Arya?"

"With great difficulty, but it had to be done".

"The point is that you did leave, for her wellbeing. Nothing can change the love you feel for her, not even death. Why do struggle against it? If it is Arya's response you fear, don't. She would love you even if you burnt all of Westeros to ashes." Bran wheeled himself closer to Jon and put his hand on his shoulder. "I see two people I love suffering needlessly."

"It is not needless, Bran. You know why I wed Daenerys. As long as her dragons are alive, she will always be a threat and that is a risk I am not willing to take".

"You know I am the Three-eyed Crow for a reason, cousin. I see and know things you can not possibly imagine. If I tell you there is a way, then, there is one. The more important question is, what are you willing to do? Will you live in misery or take the chance that fate has offered you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 drops another change bombshell. Jonny boy isn't all sugar and sweet.  
> I thought a lot about how coming back from the dead would change him. Then it hit me...Ghost. He very likely wargs Ghost and so it made sense to me that when he came back from the dead the 'darkness' or 'beast' inside him (call it what you may) would be very animal-like.  
> That's why that part of Jon is all about instinct and rage and passion. There's not a hint of logic. Of course, there is also plenty of savagery. So in this story, there's only a part of him that has been altered, and become more wolf-like. Thankfully, Jon can keep it under control for the most part, but the beast seems very possessive of Arya. Not surprising because she's the other person he thinks of right before dying. This chapter is also important for whatever comes next. Show Jon was such a bloody disappointment, because not only does he treat Arya like she's some stranger...there isnt a hint of him being different after coming back from the dead. I kind of like the idea of dark-Jon who is obsessed with Arya. But I also like sweet Jon who loves Arya more than anything. So, et voila...I kept them both. :D


	12. Chapter 12

 

**_ "In this world, it is too common for people to search for someone to lose themselves in. But I am already lost. I will look for someone to find myself in."   --  C. Joybell C. _ **

 

 

Arya sighed as she stood overlooking the courtyard below. She had seen her father stand upon the very same bridge so many times when she was a child. For some reason, she felt her grief weigh heavier this day. Was it because Jon was home? she thought. He was so near - yet the distance between them haunted her.

She observed the people below going about their daily lives and she wondered, would she ever truly feel at home again. Winterfell as safe and familiar as it was, evoked sorrow as much as it offered comfort.  Were those who had suffered loss as afraid to dream as she was now? So much had changed. Gone was the carefree child who ran along the corridors dreaming of glory and adventure. In her place was a woman, a queen - who still felt adrift at times. They had all grown up and she mourned their loss of innocence. The world was no longer just the realm of heroes - it was also the kingdom of loss and pain. 

"Do you hate me now, little wolf?", a voice dragged her out of her reverie.

It took a moment for the words to register and she wondered at their stupidity. Didn't he know, she could no more hate him than she could hate herself? 

"I've spent all my life loving you, Jon. Hating you has never been an option", was her reply.

Jon walked to where she was, took her hand in his own and raised it to his lips. "I'd wondered. The Old Gods know I haven't given you much reason to love me of late".

"If only love did listen to reason", Arya said with a sad little smile.

Jon shook his head. "If love listened to reason, it would not be love. Our hearts may lead us to folly, but they are fashioned for love". He hesitated for a few minutes and then continued. "If you are willing, will you allow me to tell you the truth. All the questions your eyes scream at me, but your tongue never asks - I will try to answer them all".

"Tell me", she said.

And so he did. As his story continued she listened faithfully. Not once did she interrupt, instead her entire being seemed to still. When he'd finished she turned to look at him, with her grey eyes, shining with unspent tears.

"You _fool_. _You utter, utter idiot, Jon_. Did it never occur to you to tell us - to tell me the truth of why you left? Instead, you left me wondering what it was that made you turn away".

Jon kissed her forehead softly. "Had I told you would you have let me leave?" he asked.

"No! No, I would not have. You didn't have to leave your family to keep the North safe. We'd have found another way".

"My ever-ready warrior - there was no other way. She had two dragons, and we had just the Battle of Winterfell. You lay unconscious, fighting for your life. Do you think I baulked at the choice presented to me? All I could think about was all that we had suffered...Robb died, Father died, Lady Catelyn, so many of our people. As much as I hated what was asked of me, how could bring further misery upon us? Upon you. I would lie, cheat, kill - do anything if it meant you were protected. My life for yours, it seemed a small price to pay, little wolf".

Arya threw her arms around him suddenly, as she used to when they were young. She clung to him as if she could by sheer force of will, keep Jon by her side. Her beat vitally within her chest, almost as if it had been wrought anew. _'He did not leave of his accord...he didn't want to leave'_ , her soul sang.

She moved back just as suddenly when a thought occurred to her. "So that day in Kings Landing..."

"What you thought to be disbelief was agony. I felt helpless. Had I been able to wrap my hands around Daenery's throat I would have. I felt as if all that I'd done, that all I'd given up on had been in vain. I failed to keep you safe".

Arya shook her head as she tried to form words, "I - I wish I'd known Jon. I've been so angry with you and all you ever wanted was to keep us safe".

Jon smiled softly as he tucked her hair behind her ear, "Keep _you_ safe".

"It shouldn't have to be like this. You shouldn't have to live like this. You belong here - with us...with me".

"I always have and always will belong to you, Arya. My heart was and always will be yours", Jon said as he touched his forehead to hers.

Arya slowly lifted her arms to put them around his neck. She lifted her head even as she gently pulled his and just before her lips touched his, she said: "You have all of me".

And there, amongst the grey walls of Winterfell, she found herself becoming whole again.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, she was sitting with Jon in the godswood. It seemed the world had forgotten about their existence because not a soul had disturbed them. Either that or Bran had somehow made certain that no one would interrupt their time together. She would always be indebted to her brother for this. 

"All this time you kept your secret, what made you decide to tell me now?", Arya found herself asking Jon as she sat leaning her head on his shoulder.

"You did. I could not bear your silence any longer. I wanted to tell you I did believe all that had befallen you in Kings Landing. But I knew, in order to do so I would have to tell you the truth about why I left. That made me hesitate. Until I received a raven from Bran. We spoke the morning after I arrived and he convinced me it was time to let you know".

"Bran did?"

"Hmm", came Jon's reply. "I likely owe him my life for this".

"I am likely to box his ears next I see him", Arya said.

She felt Jon stiffen as he asked why.

"For not making you tell me sooner", she replied blithely.

Seconds later Jon was laughing and she along with him.

"It seems like an age since I've heard you laugh", he said. After a few moments of silence, he continued, "I thought I was strong enough to bear the consequences of my choice. But I could not continue to bear your aversion of me. Nothing can change what I have already done, Arya. I am wed to Daenerys in the eyes of men. But by the Old Gods and the new, I have never thought of her as my wife. Half of me wishes I could turn back time and undo it all. But the other half says I was right to do as I did. Everything is still as tangled as it ever was. Nothing makes sense, not my past choices...and the future. I'd be lying if I said I am not fearful about my choice of revealing the truth to you. As euphoric as I am that you know about my love for you and the fact that by some miracle you return my feelings...I feel alarmed at what my truth may bring about".

Arya lifted her hand to his chest and felt his heart beating. "Then we can be afraid together. I trust my brother, Jon. He would never do anything that puts us at risk. Whatever the future holds, at least now we can face it together".

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I am really really sorry about the long wait. All the changes I'm trying to incorporate kind of caught up with me and I just couldn't think about how to pin down the reveal scene between Jon and Arya. Would be all dramatic and full of passionate lip locks...or would it be sweet or somewhere in the middle. 
> 
> Ugh, boy did I struggle. After weeks of thinking, I thought that instead of a dramatic bang, the reveal should be more like a sigh of relief. What would you do if suddenly all your dreams were within reach? I would scream and grab...but Jon and Arya who have been through so much. I imagine they would be tentative about believing such a possibility. They'd be ecstatic, but apprehensive.
> 
> That's what I've tried to incorporate in this chapter. There's still much they have to discuss, for example...how exactly does Bran plan on getting these two together. A king of the South and a queen in the North. There's still plenty to follow. 
> 
> Secondly, I am also sorry about the length of this chapter. Like I said I struggled, but I basically just wanted to get the ball rolling as they say. So, this is just a glimpse of the beginning, the tip of the iceberg and all that.
> 
> Hopefully, y'all will like what's been done.  
> Don't forget to review and let me know what you think of this chapter :)  
> And last but not least, enjoy!


	13. Chapter 13

_ **"I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it." -- Renee Ahdieh** _

 

 

 

Jon stood before Ned Stark's statue in the crypts of Winterfell. Ever since his feelings for Arya had changed and grown more complex, he'd felt a reluctance to face the man he'd called father all his life. The man Jon still considered his father. 

Yet, he faced Eddard Stark's likeness now without nary an iota of remorse. What had changed he wondered? Had the Old Gods seen fit to ease his guilt now that he had stopped running from who he truly was? What he truly he felt? His visit to the crypts, to pay his respects, had been delayed because all his attention had been focused on Arya. Then Bran's revelation had intervened.

Jon sighed. Words had never come to him easily when he had to speak of a matter dear to his heart. He supposed he would have been able to say more at times if he felt less. 

And so, he stood in silence as the minutes ticked past. In his heart of hearts, he knew his father understood his feelings. After all, out of all the people in Jon's life, Ned Stark had been the only one to know the truth of his parentage, from the start. He and Arya were not siblings in truth. They had spent years _thinking_ so, but then, the years that followed had changed everything. They'd suffered loss, pain and agony and somehow, managed to survive despite the odds. Besides, since when did hearts listen to reason? He loved her now and she returned that love in full. _He was tired of fighting who he was. He tired of living his life to suit others._

Arya was the one thing he had ever asked for himself, in his entire existence. If he finally had a chance to reach out and take his happiness, would the world judge him evil for it? Would they judge him when they had no inkling of who or what he was and all that he had given up? If so, then they could judge him all they wanted. Even now, when he looked back into his past all he could see was one moment of light in a sea of bleakness. That light had always been Arya. If the world could swallow its disgust, even support the incest of the Targaryens in the face of their might, but judge him and Arya ill for their feelings - then their opinions were not worthy of note anyhow. Wolves did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. 

"Father...I - I think you know how much I love her. How much I have always loved her. I think we both believe no one could ever deserve her. But I need her. I thought I could live a lie. I was wrong. I can not - I _will not_ live without her. My only regret is that she is the only one who deserves to be called my partner and equal in life and that my folly has affected that. Though, Bran tells us that there is a way, an honourable way that she and I can be together".

Jon moved forward to light another candle at the base of the statue as one started to flicker out. 

"Words can not convey the love and respect I feel for you and it is for that reason - I need you to understand my choice to be with her. I've already died for her. Now I intend to live for her. So I ask for your blessings, Father. Not your judgement. Or, if you must judge me - then forgive me, for your blessing or no - I will make her mine anyway".

 

* * *

 

Bran lay supine on his bedstead. There was much to be done, but, even all-powerful greenseers needed their rest. He had seen much - sometimes he thought he'd soon too much. So many possible futures all converging with each other. If he missed his mark by even a little; they would all pay the price for it.

At times he found himself thinking of Brynden Rivers. The former three-eyed crow had seemed rather detached at times. As if the passage of time had all but obscured the humanity in him. Bran had shuddered thinking of himself becoming like that someday. Now, he wondered, whether the disconnect that had so horrified him was a sort of...mercy. The responsibility on his shoulders weighed too heavy ofttimes. His feelings - his love for his family made him vulnerable. Though, his capacity to feel also made him that much more determined to succeed.

The Starks had been through hell and back. The journey had changed them all, but they had endured. Just like his father said they would. The Starks that remained now were forged and hammered and fashioned to be warriors, all in their own right. Each of them were moulded for battle, with only their battlefields differing. But, possibly, he, Arya and Jon was tested a little differently than the others. Their journeys were intertwined with elements of magic and the supernatural. Perhaps, because fate wanted them prepared for the trials they would face. Almost as if they were tasked with rebuilding and continuing the line of the Kings of Winter. 

They were faced with a challenge even now. Jon and Arya were meant to be - that much he had seen. Theirs would be the line that produced the future rulers of Westeros. Theirs would be the line that ushered in the golden age of man. But, to achieve that future, they would have to overcome serious trials. The first in line was the Dragon Queen and her two remaining dragons. As long as those creatures of fire hovered above their heads like a sword of flame, peace and spring would never truly be an option, but, they could not afford another war. Thankfully, the answer to that riddle was all but handed to them on a platter. All monarchs needed heirs and Daenerys did not have any. _She could not have any._  

He had managed to explain what needed to be done to both Jon and Arya, in the last few days. Jon had readily agreed to all that he had proposed, but, his sister - his headstrong sister had been less than pleased. Anything that put Jon in danger was unacceptable to her. Though, she had relented after a day or two. That had been Jon's doing. 

In his mind, he was twenty moves ahead of them all. While he was loath to think of his family as little more than pieces on a cyvasse board. He tried to quell his conscience by thinking that all he planned and did was for their benefit. Jon and Arya loved each other, and, after all this time they deserved their happiness. As for the Daenerys Targaryen, she had chosen her fate, as she liked to point out so often. Her choices had brought her where she was now. _Queen, but little else and mother to dragons, mother of destruction and death._ He was certain what he'd suggested to Jon and Arya would benefit them. Though the question of the dragons and their existence still perturbed him. He would deal with that matter later - first, he would make sure that his sister was granted the love she deserved. 

 

 

_The board was set and the pieces were moving._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the wait between the updates is getting longer and longer. I'm sorry...truly. Life has been hectic. Plus the story has taken on a life of its own and keeps changing from possibility to another. It's exhausting I tell you :D  
> I'm trying to connect all these new threads to the old ones and it can a bit confusing at time. Then I just feel like giving up. Then I go back again and start again. All that to and fro takes time ...so once again - I'm sorry for the long wait. 
> 
> So I know there isn't much Jonrya goodness in this chapter, but it was needed. Things are building up a little slower this time because one of the complaints I had last time was that the story was moving a little to fast. Upon a re-read, I was forced to agree, LOL ;)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think of it <3


	14. Chapter 14

_**"Give your heart to a wanderer who found your soul and called it home." -- Ariana** _

 

 

 

_Winterfell, a fortnight before Jon's return to Kings Landing_

 

'A missive from the Stormlands, Your Grace', Maester Wolkan stated as he handed Arya the parchment.

They were gathered for supper in the Great Hall. Jon's company occupied two trestle tables, while the Starks were seated at the long table situated upon the raised platform.

'What does it say Arya?', Sansa asked as she observed her sister reading the message.

'Lord Baratheon, that is, uh- Gendry inquires about our health and situation. Nothing of import.', Arya stated quickly as she put the letter down and picked up her goblet, all the while smiling at Jon.

'Are you certain that is all the letter said, sister? How very unlike Lord Baratheon.', Bran teased.

Arya all but glared at Bran though it mattered little. His words had caught Jon's interest.

'What does Lord Baratheon generally write about brother?', Jon asked softly

'Well, it seems to vary from time to time. Sometimes the letters are as Arya described. Other times, they contain questions. There is one particular question that the Lord oft repeats.' Bran stated. 

If looks could have killed, Bran would have been incinerated where he sat. Arya had not stopped staring at him if anything her scowl had increased in intensity.

'He appears to nurture a certain fondness for our Queen and I am certain he would like nothing better to have his feelings returned.'

'I see. And has Lord Baratheon formally asked for Arya's hand?', Jon asked. Though his tone remained soft, a feeling of unease now gripped every occupant of the table, including Lord Davos.

'Once formally and many times informally. But her reply remains ever the same. Bards have begged her to allow them to write songs about the circumstance...the she-wolf and the stag. They are convinced their love could restore the kingdom to its former glory because according to them it was the curse of a love unrequited that caused the Rebellion and the upheaval that followed. '

Jon looked at Arya once and then pushed his chair back to stand. 'I'll retire for the night, I think,' he said before turning and walking towards the wide doors made of oak and iron that led to the castle yard.

After Jon's departure silence reigned at the high table. 

Arya too got up not long after Jon had left and walked out without a word.

Sansa turned to Bran and said, 'What in the seven hells was that Bran?'

Bran merely shrugged his shoulders. 'That was me hastening the inevitable', he replied cryptically.

'Sometimes the temptation to commit fratricide is too much to ignore,' she replied cheerlessly.

Bran simply laughed as Lord Davos shook his head in incredulity.

.

.

.

Arya found Jon in his chambers, staring out the window. The light emanating from the hearth cast shadows even as it dispelled the darkness. She closed the door behind her and moved to where he stood.

When Jon felt her arms wrap around him he could not stop a smile from forming.

'You know Gendry is just a friend. He has only ever been a friend.', she said.

'I know, little wolf.'

'Then why did you leave so abruptly?'

Jon sighed before turning to face her. His hands traced the outline of her face as he said, 'I can not help but feel that my actions have taken away from you an honour that only should have been yours.'

Arya felt Jon touch his forehead to hers. 'You deserve so much more than what I can give you.', he said.

'You do not need to feel any guilt. You did what you had to...you saved us. It is because of you that the North is free and it is because of you that I ever had the chance to be queen. No one else could do what you have done for me. No one but you.', Arya replied as she kissed his lips.

'People will say I only wed you for heirs. That I wed you for necessity.', Jon stated softly. 'I feel as if I am wronging you somehow. You could be someone's first - their only choice.'

'Do you truly think I care about what people think, stupid? That I care about titles and ranking?'

'No, but...'

'Jon..one touch of your hand means more to me than a thousand words from others. The world can go hang and I think I'll start with those bards first.', she said as she hugged him.

Jon laughed as he kissed the top of her head. 'Have I told you the crown has turned you somewhat despotic, little wolf? Leave those poor bards be. I have too much faith in your love to be jealous of Gendry. I just wish I could do more for you.'

'Poor bards? They do not have a single inspiring thought in their stupid heads, nor do they have eyes. If they did, they'd know that she-wolves always seem to prefer dragon princes to stags. If you want to do more for me then wed me and love me forever. I demand it.'

'As you command, Your Grace.' He was still smiling when his arms brought her closer and his lips touched hers.

Arya felt Jon's hand move to her hair to gently undo her braid. By the time his hands had moved to the lacing of her dress, she had all but lost herself in his arms. 

When Jon finally did move from her, they both stood silent in the quiet surrounding them, all the while looking into each other's eyes. She answered the question lingering in his eyes when she pushed the dress off of her shoulders. The heavy material pooled at her feet, leaving her clad in her shift. 

Arya felt Jon gently lift her in his arms as he walked towards the bed. She dropped her crown on her clothes, where it lay forgotten. 

After laying her down Jon removed his clothing. As soon as he lay next to her, Arya put her arms around his bare shoulders to draw him close to her, marvelling at the strength of muscles moving beneath her hands. Soon enough, her shift ended up on the floor right next to his clothes.

Then his lips found hers again all thought went careening out of her mind. Nothing mattered except the next touch, the next kiss.

Nothing mattered but them. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Days after Jon's return to Kings Landing_

 

Jon observed the members of the small council gathered before him. They were, in turn, all looking at Daenerys, expecting there to be some sort of outburst from her. The Dragon Queen was trying her best to keep her face devoid of all expression and failing. 

He had just finished informing the council of his proposal and needless to say, they had all been rendered silent. As always, Tyrion was the first to recover.

'Your Grace, what you propose is... Well, let us just say that the arrangement will not likely be viable,' he said.

'Will it not? Perhaps you would like to enlighten me as to its unsuitability?', Jon asked with cynicism colouring his words.

'Well, for one, you are already wed to the Queen, Your Grace.'

'And no Targaryen king was ever wedded twice? Correct me if I am wrong Lord Tyrion, but, was not this council prepared to allow me to take a royal mistress for the very purpose of heirs. Now, am I to believe that you would rather the mother of the future king of Westeros be a whore than the daughter of a noble lineage whose line is older than the foundations of the very structure that we occupy?', Jon shot back.

His words were met with more conflicted silence. It appeared all in the room recognised the weakness of Tyrion's argument. They also recognised the reason for his reluctance - The Dragon Queen. 

'Perhaps we should consider the proposal of the King further', Lord Varys spoke softly. 'The idea does have merit. Any union between our King and the Queen in the North would certainly beget an heir worthy of the empire they are to rule one day.'

Jon saw other members of the council nod visibly at the master of whispers words. But it appeared Tyrion was not done stating his case.

'I think we can all agree that any child born of such a union will certainly be a worthy successor. However, will the lords in the south and the north agree to have one king as a husband to queens of two separate kingdoms? It seems to inspire a conflict of interest does it not? Were matters between the two kingdoms deteriorate, it would certainly put Your Grace is a difficult position.', Tyrion continued.

Jon smiled. Tyrion was not the hand of the Queen for no reason, but Jon would not allow anyone to come between him and Arya now. 'Your concern for my comfort certainly warms my heart, Lord Hand. Thankfully, I had already anticipated this problem. Which is why I will abdicate my claim to the throne. The Queen will continue her reign as Queen Regent and when the time comes she will relinquish her claim to _our_ heir. That would take care of any issue related to a conflict of interest. Furthermore, if anything, this proposed match will create a stronger bond between the kingdoms of the north and the south. Arya, as you remember, is connected to almost every major house in Westeros through either the ties of blood or friendship. The Tullys, The Arryns, The Daynes, even the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.'

Jon could see plainly that all the members of the small council were noticing the merits of his proposal. Their silence, for now, was in deference to the Queen, but their deference would give way to sense soon enough, he knew. 

'You did not mention the Dornish, Your Grace', Tyrion recommenced, though his arguments, as well as the conviction in his voice, were getting weaker.

'The Dornish?', Jon repeated, his tone asking Tyrion to clarify himself.

'How would the Dornish react to this match? Relations between them and the Starks are not exactly amenable, considering the part Lyanna Stark played concerning the rebellion.' It was apparent that Tyrion was scraping the bottom of the barrel for his arguments now. This latest objection of his was a token resistance, nothing more.

'Lyanna Stark' Jon said in a cold voice, 'was my mother. She did not start the rebellion as you recall, Lord Tyrion. If anything my father's and grandfather's actions are to be blamed for that. Besides, if the Dornish could keep their differences aside and accept me as King, I think accepting Arya would be a small matter.'

'And the Northern Lords...'

'My Lord Hand, did you truly think I would present this solution to the council before attaining acknowledgement from the Northern Lords?', Jon cut in before Tyrion could finish - clearing losing his patience. 

Before any more could be said Lord Vayrs intervened and stated, 'I think the King has thought this matter through to its conclusion. Perchance, we would all be better suited to further discuss this matter on the morrow, after we have all had time to review our thoughts.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter...YAY!
> 
> Ok, I think I need to clarify something first you guys. When I used the words 'give up' in the notes of the last chapter I did not mean the story. I only meant that I often give up working on a chapter only to return to it once I've found a solution to whatever is troubling me. I did not, I repeat, I did not mean I was giving up on the story. Naw...I mean to finish this bad boy. 
> 
> Concerning this chapter, I'm gonna be trying out a new method where there's gonna be jumps in the timelines (small ones) and few flashbacks (recent ones) because Jon needs to be in Kings Landing and Arya in Winterfell (until of course they meet again..sigh :D). 
> 
> That is what I have done in this chapter for example because all of a sudden Jon ends up in KL.
> 
> So long story short, the last chapter we know Bran figured a way out to get our favs together. In this one, I've given you little details via characters rather than just writing about the whole enchilada. We know that Bran wants to use the whole Dany can't have kids as a reason to make Jon and Arya get together. If you remember the council are getting pretty desperate for one, they were even prepared to accept a royal mistress.
> 
> Moving on...ah yes. Jon and Arya are getting well...really, really close now. Good thing that weddings gonna come up real soon. The Northern Lords have already given their consent to the proposed match. To me, the North still considers Jonny boy as their own 'The North Remembers' after all. I mean the way it seemed in my mind was that the few lords who did have a problem were rather mollified when they remembered a Northern King would then indirectly rule the whole of Westeros. 
> 
> Who would rule the North you ask? Do think Arya and Jon would just stop at one kid? Nope. So their second-born would rule the North. I mean I do not see why the Northern Lords would have a problem with the plan the Starklings have hatched. If anything it's the Southerners we have to watch out for. 
> 
> As for the Southern Lords and the Small Council. Jon seems to have that task well in hand don't you think?
> 
> So, what remains now is... Daenerys. But we all know she's gonna have to give in eventually. Thus things are going to be hopping back and forth the next few chapters.
> 
> Buckle up, folks. It's going to be a wild ride :D
> 
> Also if you guys have questions feel free to shoot em at me. I wouldn't mind comments being shot at me either ;D
> 
> Enjoy!


	15. Chapter 15

**_ "The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions." -- Leonardo do Vinci _ **

 

 

Tyrion slowly made his way to the queen's chambers. His private audience with Jon had not gone well, with 'well' being an understatement. After the meeting, Tyrion had a fair idea of how Jaime might have felt when Ned Stark had stared at him with disgust, on the day Kings Landing was sacked. Jaime, deep in his cups, had once told him that there were few instances in his life when he had felt so degraded. Jon had inherited the same ability to cut a man down to size from his esteemed uncle. 'Not that I have much _size_ to begin with', Tyrion thought self-deprecatingly. 

In truth, he could not blame Jon. Things between them had steadily worsened since after the coronation. He and Jon had been friends once long ago, but those days were past. Tyrion was aware of how Daenerys had _'convinced'_ Jon to wed her. He knew that while she had pretended that the union was due to the North's desire for independence, in reality, the Dragon-Queen had been drawn to Jon from the start. Everything about Jon was so unlike what Daenerys was used to. Jon was the embodiment of an iron fist in a velvet glove. He was honourable, but not afraid to be ruthless when the situation warranted it. The boy Tyrion knew had grown to a strong man, moulded so by dark times. Though, his devotion to Arya Stark was what had fascinated the queen the most. 

 _It was the oldest tale in the book really, Daenerys Targaryen wanted the one thing she could not have._  

Jon's indifference had not quelled Daenerys though. If anything it had made her more determined to have him for her own. She had never met a man so immune to her beauty as Jon was. The list of her admirers was long and illustrious - Drogo, Jorah, Daario, himself and many, many others. Thus, it was no surprise why she was drawn to his disregard, it was a novelty to her after all. Tyrion discerned she truly believed that she could make Jon fall in love with her and had it not been for one matter Daenerys may well have succeeded. However, Jon had been and still was in love with Arya Stark and while he was Targaryen by birth; he did not have much of his father in him. Except for, perhaps, his utter yearning for the she-wolf of Winterfell. Sometimes, Tyrion almost believed he lived not with people but with ghosts of people long gone. 

It had been folly to believe he could change Jon's decision to make Arya his wife. Still, he had tried to do so - like a fool who cursed the sun and was surprised to see it still shining. Nothing short of oblivion would stop Jon now, of that he was certain. Jon had made his case admirably before the Council, and he had done it without a hint of feeling. No, he too astute to rely on his emotions, instead he had relied on cold, hard facts to build his case. Facts that were impossible to refute. Tyrion had little doubt that the Council would not disagree with him and that made the task before him all the more complex. It had fallen to him to make certain Daenerys would give in to the King's demand gracefully. 

With that thought in mind, he approached the guards standing at the door as they announced his presence to the occupant within. 

'Well, have you convinced him to change his mind?'

Tyrion heard the words fired at him as soon as he entered the chambers. He looked at Daenerys and slowly shook his head to give her his answer. He could tell right away that the news did not sit well with the queen. Her anger was quick to surface nowadays.

'I will not allow him to do this. Not after all that I have already lost to the Starks. I knew, I always knew that as long as Arya lived, he would never truly be mine. That was why I was forced to have Greyworm...' Daenerys stopped before she could complete the sentence. 

But her slip did not go past Tyrion. 'What? What was is it exactly that you had Greyworm do? _What-did-you-do-Daenerys_?', he asked, dreading her answer. 

Daenerys looked at Tyrion steadily in silence. Then she walked towards the table to pour herself some wine. 

When she did speak, her words shocked Tyrion to his core. 'I ordered Greyworm to kill Arya Stark. To make it look like she'd been attacked and left for dead. There were still minor skirmishes happening in the city at that point and her death could easily have been blamed on the rioters.'

Tyrion found himself unable to do anything but stare at the woman before him in horror. Until her revelation, he was always sure that he was aware of all that Daenerys had done and all that she'd planned to do. That she had perceived and tried to do such a thing was galling and once horror had melted away, anger took its place.

'I see.' He moved closer to where the Queen sat on her lounger. 'So mere months after you promised the North its independence and accepted their pledges of loyalty, you chose to have killed the one person they all agreed upon as their ruler? Did you learn nothing from the blood-soaked history of the Rebellion? Did you think about what the repercussions of your actions might have been had you succeeded? You would unleased hell had Arya Stark turned up dead under your protection.'

Daenerys's fingers tightened around her goblet. 'The Starks and their presence has long been a thorn in my side. It was because of them my Kingdom was fractured long before I ever ascended to the throne. As for Arya Stark - I saw in her what none of you could. Her power over Jon, over the Northerners, was a threat. The longer I allowed her to live the more that power would have grown. You know this to be true. I deemed her a danger and dealt with the situation accordingly'.

'Dealt with it? My Queen, the Northerners are unlike the Southrons. The Starks are revered in the North because they have ruled over the North successfully for thousands of years. Arya Stark is prized because not only is she a Stark, she is also the hero to end the long night. As it is, you did nothing to neutralise the situation. All you managed to do was to weaken your position further, with your husband, with the North and now with me. Did you know that Arya was hesitant about the idea of being Queen in the North until she went back after the coronation? I have long pondered at what could have made her change her mind...and now I know. I also understand now why Greyworm's death was never investigated more beyond a token inquiry.' Tyrion stopped as he poured himself some wine. His head was thumping. 

Once seated next to the queen he continued, 'The answer is as plain as day. I know now why he turned up dead, and honestly, I am surprised that the retaliation for the attack on Arya stopped there. In not letting the matter go any further, both Jon and Arya have shown great restraint. There was never any need for such a drastic measure on your part', he entreated.

'You say that now? After the turn of events, we have witnessed today?', Daenerys asked sourly.

Tyrion swirled the wine in his cup before taking a deep gulp. His patience was turning thin. 'The wise have said we often meet fate on the road we take to avoid it, your grace. Had you not attacked Arya Stark, she might never have consented to be queen in the North. Had she not been the queen Jon may not have had such a strong case to present before the council today. In a roundabout manner, you did not prevent anything, rather you have somehow managed to achieve the one thing you set out to evade. I have often said, your grace, that there are few things in life as dangerous as irony. It strikes when you least expect it.'

Tyrion noticed an imperceptible stoop in Daenerys's posture then. As if his words had finally hit home. 'He will not give up this notion of his will he?', she asked.

'There is no stopping the king. Tomorrow, the Council will agree to this proposal and then soon after Jon will make a public declaration. I think the fact that he is not insisting on dissolving his marriage to you should be taken as a positive sign. You will, after all, retain your kingdom and do away with the worry of heirs once and for all.'

'Heirs', the queen whispered. 'That is what it always boils down to doesn't it? A queen unable to produce heirs is only half a queen is she not? No matter the greatness, I achieve, no matter the victories I reap, history will judge me a barren monarch. Long have I known that my dragons would be my only children. Still, it stings to know that a child not of my flesh would inherit after me.'

'Not of your flesh, my queen, but of your blood. Your successor will be Targaryen and Stark like the king.'

Daenerys laughed upon hearing this. A bitter, empty sound that emanated from deep within her. 

'There is nought Targaryen about the king except the blood flowing through his veins. My actions may not have achieved the desired results, but, time has proven my fears well-founded. I was right about Arya Stark. She has long had Jon's heart and now she will hold all of him.'

Tyrion knew the state of the marriage between Jon and Daenerys. No secret ever survived long in the Keep. It was common knowledge that the Queen took to bed any man she pleased and that the king knew and cared little about that. There was no love on either side of the marriage now, and thus the queen's ire at the King's impending marriage was difficult to understand. His curiosity soon translated his thought to words. 

After a long silence, the queen deigned to answer. 'He was mine first. My husband, my king.'

It was then that Tyrion realised the dangers inherent in making idols out of men and women; the entire business was fraught with pain and disillusionment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

'I hear felicitations are in order.'

Jon looked up from the book he was reading to see Tyrion standing before him. 

'You know, we have a saying up North - good wishes if not heartily meant mean nothing at all. Until a few days ago you were the only one arguing against my marriage to Arya. What brought about the change of heart?', Jon asked.

'It was more a change of mind, Your Grace. When I thought about the proposal of yours at length, I realised that the benefits more than outweighed any detriments', Tyrion quipped. 

'Imagine that. Perhaps the slowing of your mind has to do with the fact that you no longer read', Jon stated as he closed the book in hands.

Tyrion could not help but smile at the barb. 'I'm certain you're right. I no longer have any time to read as I once used to. Speaking of reading, what is it that has captured your attention so completely?', he asked motioning to the book Jon had been reading.

'This?', Jon asked as he held up the volume. 'These are the logs your father wrote during his time as Hand to Aerys.'

When Jon caught the look of surprise on Tyrion's face he smiled.

'I've managed to surprise you yet again? I seem to be getting rather good at it. Its amazing what can be found in this library. Sam once told me that even the maesters at Oldtown are impressed by the collection we have here. There is an entire section in this repository devoted entirely to journals written by all the Hands that have served in this Keep. My father's journal remains incomplete. Your father's journal, however, it makes for a fascinating read. In the beginning, Aerys is described as charming, resolute and even just. Though, you can imagine what the entries say about him towards the end.'

'Are you trying to tell me something, Jon?', Tyrion asked openly.

'Yes. I am not certain when we will see each other next seeing as how I will be departing for Winterfell soon. We both know the truth of what is happening to Daenerys, Tyrion. Her anger is clouding her judgement more and more. She relies more heavily now on the power her dragons afford her than her ability to rule well and she mistrusts everyone. Sooner or later, the coin will drop and we both know which side it will land on. Was it not you who once told me that most men would rather turn away than face a truth? I have never believed you be like most.', Jon asked.

Tyrion looked on unable to answer.

'Sometimes in our desire to fight and defeat evil, we become the very thing we are fighting. Love is the death of duty Maester Aemon said and your duty as Hand is to people of this realm. Remember that, when the time comes', Jon said softly and then walked out, leaving Tyrion to uneasy thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was highly inspired by this Tyrion quote:
> 
> “It all goes back and back," Tyrion thought, "to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads."
> 
> What a wondrous and terrible idea that is. Being programmed by our very genetics to behave in a certain manner. Nature vs nurture. I knew Daenerys would end up being the bad-guy in the end. Not because she has a darkness to her...but because there's nothing to anchor or tether her to her good side. Unlike the Stark kids, who had Ned. They always have this measure to keep checking themselves against. But Daenerys has no one like that. I think that is in part why her eventual descent will have no triumphant redemption because she has never really learnt or seen anything other than the ideology of 'might is right'.
> 
> That's what I think anyway, I could be way off the mark.


	16. Chapter 16

**_"And real love never fades, not truly..." -- Mary, Queen of Scots._ **

 

 

_Winterfell, a few days prior to Jon's departure_

 

'Where do you think you're going?' Jon asked his voice heavy with sleep. 

Arya turned to face him and the sight that greeted her made her smile. Jon's face was mostly hidden by his hair - and what a glorious head of hair it was she thought to herself. _A veritable riot of curls_.  Locks that like could be the envy of every maid in the Seven Kingdoms, but Jon rarely kept his hair loose.

'Just to get my shift', Arya answered, even as she reached out and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

 Jon inched closer to her in return. 'All those times I mussed your hair - if only I'd known how good it feels to have the favour returned', he said moving his head to give her better access. 

'I am certain you will waste no opportunity to make up for lost time'.

'Do you mind?', Jon looked up at her with a sleepy smile on his face. 

'Do I mind running my hands through these magnificent tresses? Your Grace, I am certain young maids would fight for the honour', Arya said with a straight face.

There was no movement or reply from Jon for some time. Until suddenly, Arya felt herself move. One minute she was sitting and the next, Jon had somehow managed to drag her underneath him.

'Did you truly just call my hair magnificent?', he asked.

'Well, a spade is a spade, Jon. Is that why you keep your hair bound all the time? Lest maids and bards alike descend upon you' - she never got the chance to finish what she was about to say. 

 Jon had chosen to silence Arya in a time-honoured way. His kiss did not stop her from smiling though.

'What has you smiling now, my torment?', he asked when her smile didn't go away.

'I suddenly remembered what Robb said -- that you'd never met a girl you liked more than your hair. Does that still hold true now that -- '

Her words ended on a gasp. She could hardly believe Jon's method of retaliation. No one had tickled her in years and apparently, her tolerance for it had waned somewhat. Nonetheless, it was thrilling.

A few minutes later she was fairly sputtering as she could no longer contain her laughter.

Several minutes after that, Jon stopped momentarily and said, 'Yield.'

Arya was still laughing as she replied, 'Only to you, stupid.'

 'Now, will there be any more commentary on my hair, magnificent or otherwise?', he asked threateningly.

Arya made a great show of thinking over his question and then asked, 'And just what will I get in return for my trouble?'

'Me', came the quick reply, 'along with the exclusive right to muss my hair anytime you please.'

'Well then, I'd be a fool not to agree.'

After that, no words were spoken and it was a while before Arya finally collected her shift.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Most of the councils and meetings in Winterfell took place in the Great Hall. Due to its size, the Great Hall was able to accommodate at least 500 people and so it made sense to use the hall whenever her bannermen gathered to speak with her. But, whenever Arya conducted a meeting with her closest advisors, she preferred the use of her private chambers. Such a gathering place might have been termed informal, but seeing as how her closest advisors comprised of two of her siblings and Lord Davos, the scene of the meeting did not need to hold much propriety. 

This particular morning found all her counsellors and herself seated at the round table situated in the antechamber. They'd received word from Kings Landing that informed them Jon would be returning to Winterfell in a matter of weeks. The Small Council had agreed to the proposal and the date for Jon's public declaration had been set. 

Arya had breathed a sigh of relief upon receiving the news. She had tried and failed at keeping her worry for Jon's safety at bay since his departure.

'I think I am little impressed by the alacrity Jon has demonstrated. He certainly wasted no time', Sansa stated.

'Perhaps he thinks that he has wasted enough time already', Bran replied smiling at Arya. 'Winter has come and gone, now is the time for spring. Now is the time for planting trees and watching them grow.'

'There he goes. Having the cryptic last world', Sansa said looking at Bran resignedly. 'Now may be the time for planting trees and all that, but, it is also time for preparations, Invitations and computation.'

'Your Highness, I must congratulate you on your tremendous talent for terminology. You rather remind me of Stannis when you do that', Lord Davos commented.

Before Sansa could digest that bit of alliteration, Bran said, 'Indeed, Lord Davos. 'Preparations, invitations and computations' - A treatise on how to plan and arrange a Northern Wedding, penned by Sansa Stark. I think we may have found your new project, sister.'

Arya thought it prudent to cut in and take matters in hand before the situation could escalate. 'My council seems to have misplaced its gravity this morning. Can we concentrate on the task at hand? Now, I think that we should strongly focus on austerity when deciding on a budget.'

'I think you've misplaced your clarity this morning as well. You seem to have forgotten you are Queen. Austerity in any royal ceremony is about as manageable as Nymeria when she's feeling playful. You will have to keep a handsome budget.' Sansa said without even looking up from the parchment she was scribbling furiously on.

'Yes, by all means. Let us not have anything at this wedding that is not handsome', Bran cut in, as Arya mentally sighed. 'I can assure you that most of the North if not all of it will want to be part of the event.'

'That's right, Your Grace. Not to mention all your relatives, bannermen and allies. Amongst your allies are the Baratheons, the Daynes, the Tullys, and of course, our new allies on the other side of the Narrow Sea',  Lord Davos contributed counting off the names on the shortened fingers of this left hand. 

'Seven Hells, we're not planning an event. It is a marriage. I thought marriages in the North were a sombre affair', Arya burst out. The picture being painted by her councillors had her feeling rather uneasy.

'Well, most marriages in the North are sombre, but, not the - '

'Yes, yes, I know. Not the marriage of the Queen in the North', Arya finished for her sister.

'At least the North does believe in bedding ceremonies. Which is nothing short of a silver lining. I shudder to think of what would happen to any unhappy soul who tried to get near you.' 

'Sansa, if you are trying to make me feel better, it's not working.'

'My Queen, allow me to impart some advice. Think not upon the irksome formalities rather think about the man you love and have chosen above all others to wed.' Lord Davos said as he leaned forward to gently touch Arya's hand. 'You shoulder a burden that not many can bear and you have done so with grace and so this one time, allow your family and friends to carry the weight of responsibilities. The Starks have been through dark times and through winter and through it all you have been strong. However, as the prince has said, now is the time for spring, to be reminded that change can be beautiful as well. Your life is going to change in a wondrous way and you should bask in the promise of happiness that now awaits you.'

Arya looked at the people surrounding her and suddenly she was grateful. Grateful for the people in her life. It was because of them that she was able to withstand the responsibility of leading the North. And so, finding herself without words and overcome with feeling, Arya covered Davos's hand with her own and nodded. Then she smiled.

.

.

.

.

.

It was a clean, cool Northern night. The Godswood's timeless beauty was magnified by at least a thousand candles and many torches, all burning bright. The chestnut and elm trees towered over them in all their majesty, swaying gently whenever a soft wind blew. 

Their arrival was waited by the others, gathered further inside the Godswood. The woman was garbed in the finest of silks and furs. Her gown and cloak bore the history of her ancient House. The deep silver of her gown almost shimmered whenever she moved and the pearls interwoven in silver lace at her sleeves shone brightly. Her cloak was a masterpiece of beadwork and embroidery, a gift from her allies across the Narrow Sea. It displayed the direwolf sigil of House Stark in all its imposing glory. To offset the intricacy of her garments, she chose to keep her hair unbound and her only adornment was the Winter Crown. 

The prince who escorted her down the path was handsomely dressed. A narrow circlet of bronze and iron adorned his red hair - a signal of his noble bearing. Once the smallest of them all, he now towered over his sister and resembled her eldest brother so much it broke her heart. They made a fine pair, the night wolf and the wild wolf walking side by side. As they approached their destination, all looked upon them in admiration. 

To the guests assembled in the woods for the ceremony, the woman approaching them appeared as the embodiment of the North's past, its present and its hopeful glorious future.

To the man who stood just before the heart-tree, she was the centre of his universe. The long-awaited realisation of a dream, a boon granted by the Gods of his father. He could not help but smile as he drank in her beauty. She outshone all other women in his mind, she always had. Arya dressed in plain riding leathers to him, was an exquisite sight to behold, but, Arya dressed as a bride _\- his bride-_ was beyond all description. When she was close enough to him, he said out loud, 'Who comes before the Gods?'

Rickon Stark smiled at his cousin as he answered, 'Arya of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and queen, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?'

'Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen. I claim her.' _At long last - my bride_. 'Who gives her?'

'Rickon Stark, her brother. Arya, will you take this man?'

Arya smiled as she looked at eyes identical to her and stated 'I take this man'. She moved ahead then, linking her hands with Jon's and they both kneeled before the Heart-tree in prayer. Arya heard the rustling of leaves, as a cool wind caressed her face. When her eyes opened next, blood-red leaves rained down upon her and Jon, almost as if in blessing. She turned to look at the love of her life and found him watching her in silent intensity. 

They got on their feet again, it was time for the groom to exchange the cloak on his bride's back with another bearing his sigil. To signify that she was now under his protection and care. 

Instead, Jon motioned for his squire to come forward. In the squire's hand was not a cloak but a box. The case was opened to reveal a crown wrought from dull silver and embedded within its elaborate design were dark sapphires. The circlet resembled a crown of blue roses. 

'I understand traditions dictate that the groom must cloak the bride in the sigil of his House. But in my heart and by my blood I am as much a Stark as my wife and that is how I want it to remain. Instead, I had the best artisans and masters fashion this crown - for _my own Queen of love and beauty_.' Jon said as he gently placed the circlet upon her head. It was a testament to its craftsmanship that it slid perfectly against Arya's own crown and added almost nothing to the weight. The visual effect of the combination was fascinating - 9 long broadswords of the Winter Crown seemed to rise out of a band of winter roses. 

'A fitting crown for a Queen in the North', Bran said as he and Sansa drew closer.

'Indeed and long may she reign', Lord Davos stated.

'Long may she reign' echoed throughout the Godswood as Northerners repeated the phrase with ardour.

But that cry was lost on the bride and groom, who in turn were lost to their environs as soon their lips touched. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Buliwyf son of Hygiliak, 'IT IS DONE!'
> 
> They are officially married and fluff ensueth. 
> 
> Here's hoping you guys like the way it all played out and don't forget to leave a comment to let me know what you think.
> 
> But, before any of that..Enjoy!


	17. Chapter 17

** _“I know a secret, and secrets breed paranoia.” -- Simon Holt_ **

 

 

 

Being married agreed with her, she thought; or, perhaps it was being married to the man she loved.

  
She looked at him as he rode ahead of her and decided that Jon Snow had grown to a fine figure of a man. It was little wonder that the Dragon Queen was enamoured by him. Much like her forebears, Jon had an innate strength; but, his strength was kept leashed by a hard iron will. Though it was not his power that called out to her, it was his vulnerability.

  
Somewhere, underneath all the scars he'd amassed lived the boy who still looked upon his fortune in marvel. The boy who had been taught since birth that he would never amount to anything. He like her had never learnt quite how to fit in. They had only gotten better at hiding it.

  
Sometimes when the mire of her thoughts led her to dark places, she would find herself questioning how Jon had not fallen in love with Daenerys. Her Targaryen beauty had earned her fame as the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms; and, men she'd learned were susceptible to a pretty face. But, Jon had left the Dragon Queen to wed her. Arya thought her own features to be pleasant at best. Her hands were callused from fight practice; and, her body while shapely and lithe, bore battle scars.

  
Somehow though, Jon Snow loved her best. She did not doubt his love for her. She only wondered at having it. He had died for, had done impossible things for her; and, such devotion was nothing short of a miracle to her. A miracle that gave her the strength to go on, to live and love, once again.

'Admiring the view?' the object of her reflection asked as he turned in his saddle to look at her.

  
Smiles were never far from her face now, and she proved it to be so when she all but beamed at him. 'How could I not? It is not every day that I am spirited away by a handsome man for a romantic ride through the woods.'

  
Jon's answering laugh echoed through the woods, causing Ghost and Nymeria to look at them. When Arya was riding beside him again, Jon leaned over to quickly kiss her. 'When one is married to a Northern queen, as fierce as she is beautiful, it does well to keep her happy.'

  
'A fierce Northern queen?' Arya repeated. 'I rather like the sound of that.'

  
'Also beautiful... ' Jon broke off as Nymeria and Ghost's growls echoed through the Wolfswood. He reached for his sword. 'I'll ride ahead and see what's going on.'

Arya who had just been referred to a fierce queen not two minutes prior could only scowl. Her expression communicated itself all too well to her husband who only smiled, stated 'Indulge me, little wolf'; and rode off before she could reply.

Arya sighed as she looked around the tranquil forest, utterly alone. She alighted her steed and slowly walked in the direction the rest of her company had gone. Not two steps had been taken when she felt the presence of another behind her. Her sword was strapped to the straddle; which meant drawing it would lose her precious time to defend herself. Instead, she drew the dagger at her waist and turned around.

A man whose face was concealed by a hood stood not a few feet away from her. His bearing was strangely familiar to her, as if, she'd met him before. 'See with your eyes', she thought as she tried to remember where or when she may have encountered the man before her. Then, she remembered.

  
'Jaqen?'

  
'A boy becomes a girl. A girl becomes a queen. Tell me, my lady of Stark do you wonder what the queen may go on to become?.' The hood moved back to reveal a man who she'd deemed a protector once.

  
Arya gripped her dagger firmly. 'Currently, I find myself wondering what business you have in the North?'

  
'A man was ordered to arrive, and a man obeyed. The guild has sent the Wolf Queen an offering.'

  
'An offering?' Arya found herself scoffing. 'It has been some time since I left Braavos Jaqen; but, I still remember what the order's notion of a gift is.'

  
Jaqen tutted softly, and he moved toward her calmly to not alarm her. 'A man knows a girl. A man can not harm her.' he said as he slowly reached out to touch her hair. 'Lovely girl, none among the ranks of the Faceless Men would do you any harm.'

  
'No quarrel with you Jaqen, but, if you don't move back I might be forced to slit you open from chest to navel.' Arya stated.

  
Jaqen frowned and looked down to see a dagger pointed at his heart. Then he smiled. 'Evil child', he said as he backed away from her. 'Two of your pack have returned, where is the third?', he said looking behind Arya. 

Arya turned to see Nymeria and Ghost loping towards them. When Arya didn't see Jon next to them a sense of apprehension assailed her. Where was he? 

'If any harm has befallen my husband...'

Jaqen shook his head slowly as he interrupted her. 'A man has not come here intending evil. The quiet wolf watches from the shadows, awaiting the moment to strike.' He then raised his hand to point behind him.

Sure enough, moments later Jon emerged from the tree line. His sword was on Jaqen's shoulder ever before he spoke.

'Are you alright?' he asked softly, his eyes running over her to make certain of her well-being. 

Arya looked at him with relief. 'I am fine. This is Jaqen. He's travelled all the from Braavos bearing a gift from the Faceless Men.'

.

.

.

.

.

The three walked down the narrow winding stone steps of the crypts. Jon has insisted that Jaqen walk ahead of them; and, even now Arya was certain Jon was a hair's breadth away from pushing the Lorathi down the steps.

Jon didn't trust Jaqen, nor, did he appreciate his level of familiarity with Arya. On the other hand, Arya found herself torn between trust and suspicion. Jaqen had saved and helped her in the past; but, the guild was not to be trifled with. The Faceless Men had their own methods and agendas, and they were ruthless. Their appearance after all this time did not comfort Arya. Even though they had trained her; and allowed her to leave, she was still wary of them.

The temperature dropped slightly as they descended deeper in the vault. Until finally, Jaqen stopped a level above the very bottom of the crypts.

With the torch in his hand, he pointed towards their destination.

'It is there. A little further inside.'

'What kind of gift needs to be hidden in a crypt?' Jon asked as he walked in front of Arya, one hand holding hers and the other holding a light.

'The kind that is coveted by many' came the reply as Jaqen bent next to an object bound in some fabric. When he unwrapped the bindings, a horn appeared.

It was the biggest Arya had ever seen, at least six feet long. Banded with what appeared to Valyrian Steel, the horn gleamed black. Its twisted appearance filled Arya with trepidation.

'It that - '

'This is Dragonbinder, the hell-horn. Crafted in Old Valyria by the dragonlords, to give its master power over dragons. The Faceless Men entrust it over to you.'

Arya bent to touch its surface, and to her surprise, the horn felt warm. Almost like it was alive. In the flickering torchlight, the inscription graven upon it caught her eyes. It was then that fear found her.

'Can you read what the writing upon it says, love?' Jon asked.

 _'I am Dragonbinder. No mortal man shall sound me and live. Blood for fire, fire for blood'_ Arya said. 'This horn has caused much violence, has it not?' Arya asked softly. 'Why have you brought this here, to the North of all places? You know well that already the Dragon Queen looks upon us with mistrust. If word of this was ever to reach Kings Landing...'

'It is not a man's place to question the priests. They command, and we obey. But a man may say this, many would use this horn to do evil; to bring death and destruction. The order would never have offered it if they had such concerns about you, lovely girl. You have been taught that true power lies in controlling the self, that the worst monsters we face can be the ones that stare back from the mirror.'

Still, Arya could not dislodge a deep sense of foreboding about the hell-horn. It did not belong in the North, it did not belong in Winterfell. 

'You can assure us that none have seen you bring this object here?' Jon asked as he put his arm around Arya. To calm her. To anchor her.

'The order knows much about secrets, Your Grace. We have many of our own. A man swears by the Old Gods that none except those present here know about the hell-horn being in Winterfell.'

'Arya, I think for now we should keep this horn. I do not trust the order, but I would rather the hell-horn be in our hands than out there in the hands of another madman with designs on power.'

'Secrets are difficult to keep, Jon.'

'This crypt hides its fair share of secrets. We can leave it here, where none venture except us. It is here now, there is little that can be done about that. Moving it may attract the very thing we are trying to avoid.'

Arya nodded. 'You are right. There is little we can do about this now. Some gift this is turning out to be.' She turned to Jaqen who stood as silent as the statues surrounding them. 'If this horn causes any harm to me and mine...'

'My lady of Stark, if harm was what was intended, a man would not have saved you as you lay breathing your last in the tunnels beneath the Red Keep. It is in the interests of the Order that you live, Arya Stark' Jaqen stated interrupting her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we know who saved Arya in Kings Landing. The Order seems to be keeping a close eye on her and have given her the Dragonbinder, but to what end?
> 
> So things will start to get a bit dicey now and there might be a few chapters where you may feel like ...umm...maybe maiming me but I promise this story has a happy ending. 
> 
> Though I never promised a happy in-between did I ? ;D


	18. Chapter 18

 

_**Each step I left behind** _  
_ **Each road you know is mine** _  
_ **Walking on the line ten stories high** _  
_ **Say you'll still be by my side** _

_ **If I could take your hand** _  
_ **If you could understand** _  
_ **That I can barely breath the air is thin** _  
_ **I fear the fall and where we'll land** _

_ **We fight every night for something** _  
_ **When the sun sets we're both the same** _  
_ **Half in the shadows** _  
_ **Half burned in flames** _  
_ **We can't look back for nothin'** _  
_ **Take what you need say your goodbyes** _  
_ **I gave you everything** _  
_ **And it's a beautiful crime** _

 

_ **\--Beautiful Crime, Tamer**_

 

 

 

The last of Starks stood in the Godswood. Arya had asked Lord Davos to leave to for Old Town posthaste. Together they had decided that they needed to gather most if not all knowledge about the dark object that lay hidden in the depths of the crypts.

Jon had recommended asking Sam for help. Samwell Tarly was a respected maester at the Citadel now, due to his role in the long night. Even though the Citadel ran according to its set protocols; Jon knew that Sam would find a way of helping them. If there was any news to be found about the hell-horn, the repository at the Citadel would be their best chance. More importantly, Sam could be trusted to keep their secret safe. Even the slightest hint of such news reaching the South could have disastrous consequences for them all.

'I am not in favour of letting that object stay at Winterfell. Daenerys has burned men for lesser offences' Sansa said. Her stiff posture communicated her worry all too clearly. Any hint of danger to their family was enough to put them all on edge because now, they knew enough to be afraid.

'Sansa, I am not pleased with the state of affairs. The hell-horn bears heavy on my mind, but, imagine what would follow if we were to send the horn back and somehow news of it reached the South anyway. We will be caught in an impossible situation without any leverage. Or worse, what would occur if the horn were to fall in the hands of another, worse than Daenerys?' Jon answered with a tense expression on his face.

'Seven Hells! What possessed the Lorathi to bring that dreaded thing here and leave it in our laps?'

'It is not the presence of the horn that puzzles me' Bran stated. He'd been staring at the heart-tree all this time in silence. 'The horn bears an unmistakable stench of dark magic. Magic such as that extracts a heavy price from any who seek to use it. Which makes me wonder, does the Order intend for us to make use of it?'

Arya looked at him startled. Her hand stilled in the act of cleaning her blade. 'Is that what you think they want from us? To use it?'

'You once told me the Order traces its origin to Old Valyria. Valyria that now lies in ruins as dark creatures claim dominion over its remains. It seems to me the Order has little love for dragons, and, I think that they worship more than just the God of Death. Perhaps, they worship balance or harmony. All that lives must die, but, power over death belongs to none save the gods.'

Bran's words had a disturbing effect on Arya as the horn's twisted appearance flashed in her mind. For the first time in a long time, she found herself hiding. As if her mind instinctively knew of a truth too terrible to behold.

'All our worries could very well result in nothing. For now, all who know about the horn are people that I trust with my life. What's done is done. Let us hope that the Dragonbinder never has the opportunity to see the light of day again' she said, trying to convince herself along with the others.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arya lay replete beneath her husband, who was still pressing gentle kisses on her forehead. Her hands moved soothingly over his slick back. There had been a sense of desperation in his loving this night, a sort of melancholy. Something had him troubled, though he did not give voice to his concerns. But anything that troubled him disturbed her even more.

'What has you concerned, my love?' she whispered as she gently tucked his hair behind his ear.

All his life, Jon had been unable to lie to the woman in his arms. But as he lay there, joined with her body and soul, he found that even trying to lie to her now would be an impossibility.

'I advised you to keep the horn here.' He leaned his forehead on hers and exhaled. 'What if I have done wrong?'

'Jon, you gave me counsel; and, I chose to listen because it was sound advice. I had the option to refuse, stupid.'

Instead of replying, he rolled off of her and got off the bed. He crossed the room to open the high windows and stood there, staring out. Arya observed him from her place on the bed, not bothering to cover herself. Then, she decided that she'd had enough of fear that day and chose to walk over to her mate.

She turned Jon to face her and wrapped her arms around him firmly, laying her head on his chest.

'Why do you insist on blaming yourself and thinking the worst? Was it not you who said whatever the future may bring we would face it together?'

She felt him run his hands through her hair until he gently tilted her head to look in her eyes. 'I have spent my life loving you, and, what seems like an eternity wanting you to be mine. Even the thought of losing you terrifies me. It is enough to drive me to darkness, Arya. I've only just found you again. I can lose everything - this life with all its privileges, power, my very life, but not you. Never you.'

'Did I ever tell you what Bran said to me before we were wed?' she asked. 'He said that now was the time for spring, for planting things and watching them grow. We've seen much Jon Snow. Yet, we found a way to each other in spite of the odds. Hold on to that as I do. From now on, our love will only increase.' Arya told him as she took his hand and gently placed it on her belly.

It took him a few moments to understand what she was trying to convey. But Arya knew the exact moment he knew, his hand jerked slightly and a smile bloomed on his face. A smile so hopeful it broke her heart.

'Truly?' he asked as his hand caressed her.

'Maester Wolkan confirmed it this morn. Two and a half months past and I did not even realise.'

Jon laughed as he lifted her in his arms. 'That's because I keep you well occupied, love.'

'Well, you have certainly made a fast recovery.' she stated as she grinned.

'It is not every day a man learns he's going to be a father, little wolf.'

'Will you still call me little wolf when the little one comes?'

'You will always be _my_ little wolf. The babe can be yours.' He then proceeded to lay her on the bed and joined her. Their worries forgotten for the present.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning brought with welcome news and an unwelcome departure. They had received word from Lord Manderly that in a few weeks his company would arrive at Widow's Watch, along with the fleet of warships they had commissioned to be made at Braavos.

Arya's instinct to extend trade and ties with the city proved wise, as relations between Winterfell and the Free City grew stronger. The decision for the fleet to land at Widow's Watch had as much to do with convenience as it had to with geographic significance.

Lord Manderly had written requesting the presence of the Queen and the King at the momentous occasion; proposing sailing from White Harbour to House Flint's seat of power. However, in light of the Queen's condition, Maester Wolkan had suggested caution. The Master had advised that undue risks were better avoided considering it was the Queen's first pregnancy.

That left with them with only one option. Jon would have to make the trip alone to inspect the fleet, and, to make decisions about their permanent deployment.

'You will have to leave immediately if you are to arrive at Widow's Watch on time' Sansa stated. When she caught Jon gazing at Arya with concern, she smiled. 'Do not fret, cousin. I will personally watch over your wife, and, make certain she looks after herself.'

'I will hold you to that, my lady' Jon said.

By mid-afternoon, the King and his company were on their way to White Harbour. Arya stood at the gates and watched until the riders disappeared out of sight.

_'He shall be back soon' she thought. 'Safe at home, where he belongs, and then, I will feel like a complete idiot for feeling this anxious.'_

'He'll be alright, you know.' Her sister said as she squeezed her shoulder gently. 'I have seen grown men quake at the mention of his name.'

Arya laughed. 'It is silly, I know. Perhaps, motherhood makes a woman a touch more delicate. Remember how mother used to run about the Keep screaming after us?'

Sansa smiled 'I remember.'

 

 

* * *

 

_A few days later in Kings Landing..._

 

The Spider left his cramped quarters and stone bed behind as he made his way to the rookery. 

His little birds had been all aflutter about news from the North, but, he still expected confirmation. His wait was over soon as the raven he'd been expecting finally arrived.

_'It is done.'_

Three words it contained, but, those words had such power.

He quickened his steps as he made his way to the Queen's chambers. He had often said secrets were worth more than silver or sapphires. This secret, however, was worth so much more, after all, all he did, he did for the realm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, as the saying goes - three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.
> 
> Varys knows, which means shit is about to hit the fan. 
> 
> Sooo...who do you think spilt the beans?


	19. Chapter 19

_**"Tell me, Father,** _

_**which to ask forgiveness for:** _

_**what I am or what I'm not?** _

_**Tell me, mother,** _

_**which should I regret:** _

_**what I became or what I didn't?"**_

_**\-- Thoughts of a Stray** _

 

 

Jon stood atop the rampart watching as the tumult of the waves began to reflect in the skies. The tides roared and crashed against the rocks below, whereas the clouds thickened and darkened to an angry grey. Gulls appeared against the backdrop of grey as flashes of white as they tried to find shelter from the elements.

'The storm is gathering' he said to his companion. Ser Marlon, commander of the garrison at White Habor stood beside him observing the scene.

'I would not worry much, Your Grace. The storm will disperse as quickly as it arrived' said Ser Marlon.

'I certainly hope so, Ser Marlon. I would not want tarry here any more than I already have. The hospitality of White Harbor is beyond question; but, I would sooner have our journey to Widow's Watch done. The sooner we marshal our fleet to their permanent stations, the better.

The older man smiled as his grey eyes shone. It was hard to imagine Ser Marlon was related to Lord Manderly. In comparison to Wyman Manderly, his cousin stood well over six feet tall. His beard was thick and grey, all in all, the man was built to intimidate. In his youth, Jon would have thought that Marlon was suited better to be the leader of House Manderly. Now, however, Jon knew appearances could be deceptive; and, a ruler needed more than just brawn to lead.

'Such weather is expected here during these months, my king. While the storm delayed your voyage, it has given White Harbor the chance to celebrate your impending happiness'.

Jon smiled as he thought of Arya and their babe. He had been loath to leave her, but the voyage to Widow's Watch was an important one. It was the first step in a series they had carefully planned to strengthen the Northern fleet. The North was making improvements in their armaments, both on land and sea.

'Should we return now to Ser Bartmius to resume our survey?' Ser Marlon asked.

Jon nodded as they made their way back. Lord Wyman had tasked Ser Marlon with the duty to show Jon the recent fortifications added to the outskirts of the city. Thus far they had already seen to the defences at Seal Rock, which included crossbowmen, spitfires and to Jon's surprise scorpions. Their most recent stop was the Wolf's Den. The ancient castle raised by King Jon Stark, though, House Manderly had taken to using it as a prison.

Once below, Ser Bartimus led them towards the barracks on the ground floor. The one-legged knight hobbled his way around the grounds as he regaled them with the history of the fortress.

'Once we've inspected the barracks and the cells, Your Grace, I will lead you to the Godswood here, at Wolf's Den. It is said that when Brandon 'Ice Eyes' Stark took the castle back from the slavers, he turned the castle and the slavers over to the slaves. My ancestors were among the slaves, and they hung the entrails of the slavers on the branches of the heart tree as on offering to the Old Gods.'

'A bloody offering' Jon said in response.

'In a world that spews blood night and day, my king, what else have we to offer but blood. Though, I suppose it is always preferable that the blood is of our enemies rather than our own' the castellan stated laughingly as he led them on.

Ser Marlon shook his head in despair at the older knight. House Manderly had made Ser Bartimus the castellan and chief goaler of the Den, in reward for saving Lord Wyman's life in the battle of the Trident. While Ser Bartimus did not lack for courage, the exorbitant use of alcohol had dulled his wits somewhat, he thought.

After the Barracks, they made their way to the underground cells.

'This lower floor contains cellars and a few cells for our more esteemed guests' Ser Bartimus related as they walked the length of a dark, damp corridor. Torches lined the walls, reflecting the wet surface.

'Do you suffer seepage on this floor?' Jon asked as he touched the walls.

'Oh, aye. The floor of one of the cellars here is fairly spilling with salty water. Thankfully the rest of this subterrene lair does not face the same extent of leakage'.

The air past the cellars became heavy with pungent fumes, announcing the horrors that lay beyond.

'The cells are not worth your time, my king. They are dark, dank and filled with animals. Might I suggest we make our way to the Godswood now?'

'I am grateful for your consideration, Ser Castellan. However, I would like to see what condition this fortress keeps its inmates in' Jon answered as he continued onwards.

They had moved past the first cell when a loud screech rent the air, followed by some sort of impact that shook the very foundations of the castle. The collision was strong enough to make them lean on the wall for support.

Dread danced along his veins as Jon realised what sort of creature could have emitted such a roar. _Drogon_ , he thought. That could only mean one thing - _she knew_. At that moment, Jon could only think of one thing...getting back to Arya.

Jon unsheathed his sword and started towards the stairs. Only to be stopped by Ser Marlon.

'I think we both know what that roar meant, Your Grace. If it is as I fear, I can not let you go outside to face it'.

'Ser Marlon, my men are up there. I can not remain here cowering while they face the horror above.'

'Your men understand what their duty is, as do I. I am tasked with your safety while you remain at White Harbor. That is why I implore you to stay here. We can not allow anything to happen to you' the commander stated. He then turned towards the castellan and all but barked 'Ser Bartimus, lead the King to safety. I will meet you as soon as I can.'

With that said Ser Marlon all but disappeared in his haste to get to the top floor. Muted sounds of screams filtered through the walls as dust clouds rained on them, followed by another mighty crash. This time Jon could hear the walls around them groan. For a split second panic overtook his senses as he thought of the horror Daenerys could wreck on Winterfell.

Ser Bartimus saw the young king's hand reach for his sword as desperation shone in his eyes.

He touched Jon's shoulder bringing him out of his trance. 'You are good to none if you are dead, my liege. Follow me.'

.

.

.

.

Ser Marlon hurried up the steps quick enough for a man his size. The ground floor was full of men yelling orders and running about. Some men were being dragged in from the courtyard, many among them had most of their skin burned off. Bile churned in the knight's belly. He had fought in battles and seen men die horribly, but the lesions he observed on the men now made him feel sick.

He drew his sword and stepped out the doors, into pure chaos. The ramparts had been disintegrated. Charred remains of what were once soldiers littered the ground; and, the smell of burnt flesh wafted in the air.  
  
When he turned to face the complex he had only just exited, he saw a black dragon hovering above it. It's great wings flapped to keep in-flight even as a river of dark, roiling flame left its mouth.

  
The commander could only watch in horror as the heat from the dragon flame melted the stone.  _The King, Gods be good...let him be safe'_. Within what appeared to be minutes, the castle and all that was in it was burned to the ground. _'_

Once all that remained of the fortress was all but ashes and debris, the dragon turned and flew towards the city. _The Dragon-Queen is headed towards New Castle_ , he thought, as he scampered to find a steed. Going beyond what once was the iron-plated entrance of the fortress, the commander came to a stop. The dragon had all but destroyed the out-skirts. Nothing remained, not Seal Rock, none of the buildings built along the harbours, nor the fish market. All life seemed extinguished with only embers and ruins left behind. For the first time in his life, the knight fell to his knees in despair with only one thought ringing in his head, _'What can mere men do against such reckless hate?'_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has begun.
> 
> Also, that last quote is from 'The Two Towers'. As Jack Sparrow likes to say so often, 'I couldn't resist mate'. ;D


	20. Chapter 20

 

_**When I was a child, I heard voices** _   
_**Some would sing and some would scream** _   
_**You soon find you have few choices** _   
_**I learned the voices died with me** _

 

_**When I was a child, I'd sit for hours** _   
_**Staring into open flame** _   
_**Something in it had a power** _   
_**Could barely tear my eyes away** _

 

_**All you have is your fire** _   
_**And the place you need to reach** _   
_**Don't you ever tame your demons** _   
_**But always keep 'em on a leash** _

 

_**\-- Arsonists Lullaby, Hozier** _

 

 

 

 

She was all-powerful atop her dragon. The world and all that was in it was left behind when she flew. But now, a dark cloud of grief trailed her path. A feeling of guilt and remorse so great, she was numb to all around her.

How had it come to this she asked herself. How could she have killed him, the man she professed to love?

'I never meant to' a voice screamed inside her.

She would never have harmed a hair on his head. Even though Jon had never loved her, he had been dear to her, so very dear.

'Blood of my blood' her heart cried. They were the only ones left of her House. Now, she was the only Targaryen - alone in the world...and it felt terrible.

She did not remember how she'd arrived in her city or how she had made the way to the Keep. She stumbled into her chambers, her legs like feeling like pulp and sat on the nearest surface she could find. Her hands were shaking she realised as she clutched her gown - she was shaking all over. Try as she might though, she could not cry. Her tears refused to flow.

'Do killers cry for the one they'd killed? Could they?'

She'd flown North in an awesome rage. Did they expect her to do nothing in the face of such blatant instigation? She was a Dragon after all, and dragons did not cower before wolves. Tyrion had advised her against it. He had almost pleaded with her.

'I wish I'd listened. None of this would have happened. He would still be alive. I wish...'

It was too late for regret now. It had been too late the minute she had decided to ignore Tyrion's counsel. A red mist had overtaken her senses; and, she had not been able to see beyond her own rage. She had wanted to teach them a lesson - she had wanted the Queen in the North to understand that no power in the world could control her children. _They were hers_. None could take them away, and anyone who tried would soon wish they'd never been born. She wanted the North humiliated. She wanted them to bend the knee - her most of all. Their precious Stark Queen.

That was why she had chosen to attack White Harbor; not only was it the North's most populous city but also because Varys had informed her of Jon's presence in the city. She'd meant to bring Jon with her to Kings Landing, alive and well.

The attack upon the outpost was meant to serve as a warning - a warning of the fire that she would rain upon the North if her demand to return the horn was not respected. Keeping the Northern King would have assured Arya Stark came to Kings Landing to bend the knee; and, her kingdom would have been whole.

'How could I have known that Jon was not in New Castle? How could I have he would be at the very place she had chosen to destroy?'

She in wandered back in time to when a father had come before her bearing the charred remains of his daughter. She thought of Hazzea and her burned bones. Her dragons were a flaming sword but swords cut both ways; and, now she found herself bleeding.

_'What have I unleashed?'_

The doors of her chambers banged open as Tyrion rushed inside.

'I see you have returned without the King. My Queen, allow me to tell you how glad I am to learn you have reconsidered your strategy. I will send a raven North immediately. Arya Stark will turn over the horn without any trouble, you'll see. She looks to rebuild her kingdom in peace and will want to avoid bloodshed.'

When Daenerys remained silent, Tyrion felt the stirrings of unease.

'Your Grace?'

'The attack was carried out as planned.'

She saw Tyrion's shoulders slump. 'I see and what of Jon? You were to bring him with you?'

'I...' she started to speak and then fell quiet. After several moments when she was certain her voice would not break she said, 'I flew to New Castle to demand Jon return with me until the horn was turned over to us.'

'He refused? That may not be as bad as you think, Your Grace. You can use the incident to show your benevolence, your mercy even to those who have wronged you. All is still well - '

Tyrion stopped when he saw Daenerys spring up from her seat. It was then that he noticed that the queen was trembling.

'Nothing is well.'

'What has happened? Daenerys - what is wrong?' he asked gently.

She looked at him with her eyes glistening. 'I was informed by the Manderlys that Jon had set out on an inspection of the outskirts that very morning. They informed me that...he was at the Wolf's Den when the attack took place.'

Tyrion's sharp intake of breath reverberated around the room.

'I did not know - I never wanted to harm him.'

'No. No, you never meant to harm your nephew and husband, but, what about the countless others who died alongside Jon? _Fathers, mothers, children, what of them_?' Tyrion asked savagely. _'I suggest you prepare yourself for war, Your Grace. Prepare yourself for the words that your House stands for - fire and blood. The North will come with its armies, along with armies from the Vale, the Riverlands and perhaps even the Stormlands. And when they arrive you can burn them too. Then when all is ashes, you can look upon your kingdom of corpses and rejoice.'_

  
Having said his piece Tyrion left quietly. Leaving Daenerys alone with her guilt and grief.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arya awoke to a tranquil morning. After having completed her morning ablution she began to dress. Catching sight of herself in the mirror she could not help but turn sideways to observe her belly. Her hands lifted to caress her tummy of their own volition. She still bore no outward signs of her impending motherhood.

 

It was strange to think of herself in terms of being a mother, she had never spent much time thinking about such an eventuality. But from the moment she had learned of the babe, her centre of existence had seemed to shift. Proof of her and Jon's love, the child was so dearly loved already. She would do anything for it, she realised. She would go to any lengths to keep her babe from harm. She began to understand why her mother had gambled everything to release Jaime Lannister. Nothing but a mother's love could have propelled Catelyn Stark to act as such. For all her faults, her mother had loved her children dearly.

 

For a second, Arya allowed herself to contemplate what she would do if she had to choose between the life of her child and the safety of her people. Then she prayed she would never have to find out. After all, she thought as she tried to calm her nerves, that things were not as they were. The North was safe now. They were all safe. 

 

It was strange that her sister was not already hovering at her door, she concluded as she wore her crown. Sansa had taken her promise to heart, watching Arya's movements like a hawk. Her sister made certain no meals were missed, that no undue stress was taken and that riding and fight practice were kept to a minimum. It appeared her pregnancy had brought out the nurturing side of her sister, she thought fondly.

 

Arya ventured out of her chambers to find the castle strangely sombre. Upon arriving she found the Great Hall empty and had to resort to asking a young kitchen maid about the whereabouts of her siblings. The girl timidly informed her they were in the Godswood.

 

Was it her imagination or had the girl been crying she thought as she walked to her destination? She made a mental note to inquire into the matter after having met her family.

 

When she drew closer to the Heart Tree she saw her sister seated on the floor with her head resting on Bran's knee. Lord Davos stood with his back to her, only her brother noticed her arrival.

 

'Sister', he said softly.

 

Arya saw Sansa's head snap up to look at her before she quickly got to her feet. Arya saw her trying to hide the parchment she clutched in her hand.

 

Something was horribly wrong.

 

 

'What has happened?' Arya asked directly.

 

Sansa looked at Bran who nodded, before extending her hand to hand Arya the letter.

 

Arya skimmed through the words. White Harbor had been attacked by Daenerys, the raven informed. Its outpost was destroyed, many lives had been lost. 

 

'Jon, what of Jon' she thought with terror.

 

Then she read the words 'regret', 'the King' and 'Wolf's Den'. Her breath slowly left her lungs. That meant...

 

A shrill ringing sounded in her ears as her surroundings went out of focus.

 

Dragon fire melted stone, she knew that from Harrenhal. What then would it do to flesh and bone?

 

_'There would be nothing left' Arya thought. 'Nothing left of him. Nothing to bring back to the crypts, nothing to mark his resting place...nothing at all' she thought detachedly._

 

Then she thought not all.

 

Lord Davos moved like lighting to catch the Queen as she fell.

 

Sansa felt tears run down her cheek as she rushed to her baby sister. Her heart broke as she realised her strong sister had fainted. She could not believe that Jon was... 

 

She could not even bring herself to say the words.

 

Arya would be beyond herself with grief when she awoke. Jon's love had brought her back to life again, little by little and now it been snatched away. Creully. 

 

The Dragon Queen had no idea what she'd invited. Ice and Fire would clash and leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that happened.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right, I know this is a very short chapter...but I didn't want to leave you hanging.
> 
> For what comes next, I'm gonna need a little more time. The next update might take a few days because there is so much to sort through and align.
> 
> So bear with me :D

 

 

 

 

 

_**My love, my love** _   
_**My fearless love** _   
_**I will not say goodbye** _   
_**Sea may rise** _   
_**Sky may fall** _   
_**My love will never die** _

 

_**Go on, go on** _   
_**Go bravely on** _   
_**Into the blackest night** _   
_**Hold my breath** _   
_**'Til your return** _   
_**My love will never die** _

 

_**\-- My love will never die, Claire Wyndham** _

 

 

 

 

 

Arya could hear the rain from where she sat. Facing her was her father's statue, with his sword in his hands; he appeared to stand guard at a never-ending vigil.

To many, the crypts were no place for the living to rest. But Arya could find rest nowhere else inside Winterfell. Every corner, every stone of the castle reminded her of the dream her life could have been. The godswood was where they'd said their vows. Her chambers carried his scent. Nothing was left untouched by Jon. _Not even her_. Their babe slumbered in her belly, safe, untouched by the grief of its mother.

The Crypts offered her some small measure of solace. Her father's presence had always calmed her. That was why she had found herself heading towards his tomb, in the dead of the night. How long she had sat there, she did not know. And, truth be told she could not bring herself to care.

Not just now. For now, she just wanted to stop the tumult of emotions roiling in her chest. Anger, nay, rage; fused with sorrow and fear. A fairly toxic combination.

She knew that she would feel better if she allowed herself to cry, but, she'd promised herself; that she would not shed a single tear. Not until she'd made certain that Daenerys Targaryen would never again be able to snatch anyone else she loved.

She put her hand on her belly and lightly caressed it. She would be damned before she allowed her child to be heir to the Dragon Queen. She would be damned if she let that monster burn any more of her people.

'My Queen?'

Lord Davos approached her with slow steps, as if not to startle her.

'Should you not be in your chambers, Your Grace? The rain has brought out the chill. I would not want you to be taken ill' he said softly.

Arya looked at Lord Davos and shook her head slightly. 'I could not sleep. Nymeria and Ghost went off somewhere, hunting I suppose. The chambers felt...'

Lord Davos sat himself beside her on the ground. 'Empty?' he said as he finished his sentence for her.

Arya nodded without looking at him.

'All things pass, Your Grace. Even loss and sadness. Truth be told, I expected you to go marching straight to Kings Landing as soon as you had awoken from your faint'.

'Even when I do not wear my crown, I feel its weight bearing down on me. I chose to wear this crown, Lord Davos. This is the price I pay for it. I would like to ride to Kings Landing and run my sword through the Dragon Queen. But, I can not. Being a queen is bad enough, but, being a queen who cares about her people is worse. Honour and duty dictate what I do now'.

Arya stood and walked to her father's statue. She lit a candle and then turned to face her old friend and advisor.

'Honour dictates that I look to my peoples' safety. Duty dictates that I preserve my House. But, this once, Lord Davos, honour and duty do not oppose what I want'.

'Then you've reached a decision regarding the Dragon Queen's ultimatum ?'

'She wants me to come to Kings Landing to bend the knee and return the horn. We will ride to Kings Landing, but not to kneel'.

Arya said as started to walk away.

Halfway across she stopped and then turned towards Davos.

'I never did wonder why the blackest time of the night was referred to as the hour of the wolf. I think I understand now, wolves are creatures of the night. Wolves hunt their best at night, unseen. From now on Lord Davos, _we fight like wolves'_.

 

 

 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Sow a thought, and you reap an act;**   
**Sow an act, and you reap a habit;**   
**Sow a habit, and you reap a character;**   
**Sow a character, and you reap a destiny.**

**\-- Samuel Smiles**

 

 

 

_Winterfell, a few days after the Queen's departure._

 

 

 

Leagues away in the stronghold of the Starks, Brandon, the Broken awoke from his vision. 

His harsh breaths were loud in the uncommonly quiet Godswood. He had news, urgent news that needed to be sent to his sister.

It took him two tries to call back the guard who had escorted him to the woods. 

The young guard came running towards him looking contrite.

'I am sorry, my Prince. I was called away...'

'That does not matter now. Find the Maester and bring him to me. Quickly'.

As he saw the guard's disappearing figure, Bran prayed that Arya would receive his raven before her counsel with the Northern Lords. His sister had marched away from home with a darkness in her eyes, a darkness that had unnerved him, he who had been taught to look upon darkness as a friend. He knew that some part of her now courted death.

_'She needs to be told', he whispered to himself._ 'He's alive _. He's alive...'_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Arya looked out the window of the wheelhouse as they approached Moat Cailin. The Moat was an ancient fortress, a stronghold of the First Men. Though it had long since fallen to ruin, certain parts of the castle retained some of their edifices. Built on a natural chokepoint, the Moat was perfect for fending off any Southron invasion.

Once her company had stopped, Lord Davos urged his horse forward and alighted quickly to help the Queen exit from the wheelhouse.

'All is ready as you requested, Your Grace. The men await you at Gatehouse Tower'.

Arya nodded. She and Sansa both followed Lord Davos to their appointed destination. Guards proceeded them bearing the Stark banners, whereas Ghost and Nymeria followed close behind.

The Gatehouse Tower loomed ahead, its structure wide and broad. Once inside, they made their way to the hall, where all her bannermen and allies were seated at a large stone table. Candles and torches provided ample lighting, and, Arya could see several maps laid out on the table.

The men all stood up to show their respect when they saw Arya approaching them.

'Please make yourselves comfortable, my lords. I hope your journey here was agreeable.'

Once they were all seated and the cupbearers had retired to their corners after filling their goblets, Arya started the conversation.

'Let me start by expressing my gratitude at your support and readiness. All here are aware of the events that have led to this day. My decision to fight was not arrived at lightly. I would have been content to live all my days in peace, seeing the North prosper. But, to stay silent in the face of Daenerys Targaryen's attack on our people and my king is not something I am prepared to do. Our silence will translate to acquiescence, which will only encourage her further. As long as the dragons hang above our heads like a sword, none of us will be truly free'.

'I know what I ask of you is no small sacrifice. I am aware, that if we fight against her tyranny now not only will be branded oathbreakers; but, that in doing so, we may be courting our own destruction. Therefore, anyone here not in favour of standing up to the Dragon Queen can leave, without any fear of judgement from me or mine'.

Arya's words were met with a lengthy silence. Lord Davos looked at the young queen with barely concealed surprise. In all his years he had never seen a monarch offer liegemen any sort of choice, especially in matters of war.

Lord Wylis was the first to speak. 'My queen, we kneeled when Torrhen Stark demanded it of us. We fought and died beside King Robb to avenge your father; and, to free the North. You risked your life to end the long night. We have not forgotten the favours your House has bestowed on us during these long years. We will not abandon you in your hour of need. If you ask it of us, we will follow you, to fire and death itself. We are and always will be Stark men.'

'Aye, twas the Targaryen queen who broke the peace the way I see it. The Targaryens and their dragons mean nothing to us. The quicker we shove our swords up the dragons' bungholes the better for all of us. You are the only queen I mean to bend my knee to' Greatjon stated as he lurched to his feet.

'As always, your words never fail to inspire my lord' Arya said, a smile playing on her lips. She motioned for him to take his seat.

Lord Reed spoke his piece next, ' If we do not act now, then, we will none to blame save ourselves when Daenerys truly unleashes her reign of fire. We have pledged our allegiance to Winterfell, Your Grace and we shall not fail you'.

'Uncle, what say you?', Arya asked Brynden Tully next.

'Peace is sweet enough if it be on our own terms, my queen. The Tullys are your kin and allies as always'.

'Thank you, Uncle. What do our allies from the Vale and the Stormlands say?' she asked next.

'The North and the Vale have fought side by side for many years now. We will honour that allegiance, Your Grace' Lord Arder Royce claimed.

Arya's gaze moved next to Gendry Baratheon. Gendry found her watching him and smiled. 'Do you really have to ask, Your Grace. Daenerys Targaryen may have legitimised me and made me Lord Paramount of the Stormlands; but, had it not been for you I never would have made it out of Harrenhall. You saved my life when I was no one, you looked after me and while I did swear allegiance to Daenerys...you had my...loyalty long before her'.

'Thank you, Gendry' Arya said softly.

'We were all of us aware what attending this council meant, Your Grace. You have proved your commitment to us by allowing the choice to leave. Now, let us prove our duty to you by remaining' Lord Glover stated.

Arya smiled as she looked upon the men gathered in the room. 'I am fortunate, indeed, to have men such as you as my bannermen and allies. Your loyalty to me, on this day, will not be forgotten'.

Arya stood and pointed towards the maps. 'There are two main obstacles in our path - the dragons, of course, and Daenerys's allies. I think we can all agree that conventional warfare will not get us very far against dragonfire, nor, do we have the advantage of Dorne's geography to help us in killing the beasts'.

'What then do you intend to do, niece?' the Blackfish asked.

'Dragons can be killed, that much was proved by Dorne long ago. If we are to have any chance of success in taking the city, we have to eliminate the beasts before ever we meet Daenerys's forces on the battlefield'.

'Is such a thing even possible?' Lord Arder asked. 'The dragons do not let anyone other than the Dragon Queen near them'.

_'That is true, my lord. But, what if I told you there was a way to make the dragons come to us?'_ Arya asked.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took forever. *LE SIGH* Who would've thought carrying on the story in multiple places would be difficult :D
> 
> Still, progress is being made and we shall persevere.
> 
> I just want to thank you guys for all the love and appreciation you've given me <3
> 
> Thank you very much indeed :)


	23. Chapter 23

_**“Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.”** _

_**\-- Alexander Pope** _

 

 

 

The twilight hours gave one too much time to ponder on what-ifs, Arya thought as she sat near the secluded section of the Children's Tower.

Her council with the lords had gone on for endless hours; and, after it had concluded Arya had found herself feeling drained. She had ventured out on the pretext of fresh air, with two direwolves as her guards. Sansa had insisted on accompanying her; but, Arya had told her sister she wanted to alone for a while.

The noise of the camp set up nearby was muted, where she rested. She looked into the night with listless eyes and could barely feel the chill in the air. The fog had rolled in and was now swirling around her almost as if in sympathy. Arya observed her surroundings reflecting how everything appeared dreamlike and hazy. But, she knew that reality in all its harshness awaited her on the other side of the field. She wished with all her heart that she could somehow alter the course of events that had lead to this day, but, wishing was for children.

As dauntless as she had made herself appear in front of the council, she felt like a scared little girl now in the quiet night. She realised that she did not want to fight, not now, not when she carried her precious babe. However, fate and the Dragon Queen had left her with little choice. 'I may even have considered bending the knee, if only he was alive...', she thought. But Jon was gone - along with any option of her retreat.

A disturbance in the think layer of fog caught her attention as Arya noticed a figure emerging from the mist. She sighed and got to her feet slowly, thinking Sansa had likely sent the soldier to bid her return. Only, when the man drew nearer did Arya realise who it truly was.

Arya moved forward a few steps in urgency and then held her ground. 'Where in the seven hells have you been?'

'A man promised to return when you had need of him, lovely girl. It does not matter where a man was, only that he is here now'.

The longer Arya looked at Jaqen, the more she felt her rage take over. None of what had transpired would have happened if Jaqen had never brought the horn to her.

'I will ask this question only once, and, I suggest you answer truthfully this time. Why did you bring me that horn?'

At Arya's nod, both Ghost and Nymeria stalked closer to where she stood growling at Jaqen. _'Answer my question very, very carefully Lorathi._ Otherwise, your throat will be ripped from your body quicker than you can imagine'.

Jaqen smiled slightly. 'Do you remember what a man said when he presented you with the Dragonbinder? It was given to you, _wolf child,_ because so it has been destined. It will aid you against your enemies when the time comes'.

'Aid me?' Arya stated with disdain colouring her voice. 'Thus far, it has brought me nothing but loss and grief. I am in this position now because of it'.

Jaqen tilted his head slightly to the side as he observed her. 'You fear defeat?'

'Not for myself, but, yes, I fear defeat because then nothing will stand between the North and its destruction.'

'It does not have to be so, My Queen of Stark. Use the horn to your advantage'.

'The glyphs on the horn state, 'no mortal man shall sound me and live'. Can such a thing ever be used to one's advantage?' Arya's shoulders sagged slightly as she continued, 'But that question is pointless now. If we do not use it, we all die for certain'.

Jaqen moved closer and chucked her under the chin. 'All death is certain, _blood child_. You learnt that a long time ago'.

'Yes', Arya stated as she straightened herself. 'However, I will save as many of my people as I can while I live. Tell me then. Tell me how to use it?'

'The horn was created by blood magic. Made in a manner that will not allow any ordinary being to master it, but, you, lovely girl...you are no ordinary being'.

Arya brow furrowed as she tried to decipher his cryptic words. 'The Others take you, Jaqen. I have no time to dabble in your riddles. I am about as easy to kill as anyone else'.

 _'Tsk Tsk'_. Jaqen stated as he wagged his finger in front of her face. 'How many a time must you be reminded? Words are a kind of magic. Were you not already killed? Did you not return from between the threshold of this world and the other?'

He then moved away from her to step closer to Nymeria with one hand raised slightly and extending it before the direwolf. Arya looked on in surprise as Nymeria moved forward to touch her nose to his palm.

Without turning to face Arya, Jaqen continued on, 'There are other forces at work in this world Arya Stark than just the Red God and the Great Other. Forces that have waged war over the fate of this world ever before any life existed. Do you think life or death happen without reason? _Do you think a man got careless and ended up in the black cells all those years ago in Kings Landing?_ A man was always meant to watch over you.'

Arya had never truly been afraid of Jaqen, even as a child. Though, now she felt a chill race up her spine at his words. 'What the hell are you saying?'

Jaqen turned to face her once again. ' _'I am Dragonbinder...no mortal man shall sound me and live...Blood for fire, fire for blood'_. These words were etched upon that horn long before you ever existed, lovely girl. Yet it is as if they speak of you. _No mortal man_ it says...you are a woman, a daughter born of the bloodline of the First Men and the Kings of Winter. A daughter of ice...magic runs in your very veins. _Fire for blood_ it states, you are married to the son of a dragon, the heir of the Targaryen dynasty, his blood, his essence is now mixed with yours'.

'And _'blood for fire'_ , what of that?', Arya asked. 'Bran told me the use of blood magic extracts a heavy price and Only death can pay for life, isn't that right?'

Arya saw Jaqen hesitate for a moment. ' _Just so_. Your brother spoke true. No victory is ever achieved without sacrifice. If you want to see the North and Westeros be free of the shadow of fire and blood, then the horn is your only choice'.

'You told us the horn was recovered from aboard the Iron Victory. Someone has tried to use the horn before haven't they?...they tried and failed. Whoever it was, they did not live to tell the tale I am sure'.

'They were not you'.

'If they did not live, what makes you so certain I will. And this sacrifice you speak of...what will it be if not my life?', Arya asked.

Jaqen slowly walked up to her in silence, his eyes downcast and slowly lifted his hand to touch her belly. _'Not your life, lovely girl...those dragons entered the world even as a mother lost her child. To send them to the darkness from whence they came, it will require nothing less'._

Arya backed away from Jaqen slowly with horror in her eyes...

 _'Nothing happens without a reason'_ , the words echoed in her mind until they threatened to drive her mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't we just love cliff-hangers?
> 
> Okay, you're right ...we hate cliff-hangers. Alas, it was necessary to end this chapter here. The next one has all the action in it. I already have a very good idea of where I want it to go and have written some of it. So one plus point is that hopefully, the chapter will be posted soon. Till then try not to have murderous thoughts about yours truly.
> 
> This story will have a happy ending...just bear with me ;D


	24. Chapter 24

** _“Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.”_ **

** _\-- Peter S. Beagle_ **

 

 

 

Jon awoke to pain. It felt like someone had cracked his skull open with a bludgeon. As he tried to move, waves of nausea hit him, making his empty stomach roil. Still, he did not stop until somehow he had managed to stumble out of bed. But the moment he attempted to stand on his legs, they started to wobble as if he were a babe about to take his first steps. Only one thing kept him on his feet, despite the throbbing ache in his head, despite the weakness of his limbs - he had to get to Arya. She needed him. 

 

Jon had managed to take a few steps by leaning on the wall for support when the door opened. As Jon slowly turned his head to see who had arrived, he saw the maester rushing towards him. Just as the man was about to reach him, Jon warded him off.

 

'Your Grace, you should not be afoot. You have barely recovered...'

 

'Get Lord Manderly here. Go', was all that Jon could manage while taking deep breaths to keep from retching.

 

'Your Grace...'

 

'Are you deaf, man? Do as I have ordered. Now!' Jon all but shouted at the man. 

 

The maester looked at him for half a heartbeat in indecision and thought it better not to rile the King further. 

 

Jon watched the man leave. Once he was alone again, he stumbled his way towards the clothes laid out on the table along with his sword and belt. By the time the maester returned with the lord of the Keep, Jon was all dressed and tying his sword belt.

 

The moment Lord Manderly saw Jon, he looked towards the maester and signed his head towards the door. For the conversation that he knew would follow, they'd need privacy.

 

'Have your people prepare me a steed and some men, my lord. I want to leave for Winterfell as soon as possible'.

 

'My King' Lord Wyman started to say hesitantly, 'the queen is no longer at Winterfell'.

 

'What has happened?' Jon asked dreading the older man's answer.

 

'For at least a day after the attack, we all believed you to be dead, Your Grace. It was a miracle when we discovered you had made it towards New Castle before the passageway collapsed. Ser Bartimus threw himself on top of you to save you from the worst of injuries. He did not survive, but he made certain that you did'.

 

'I am sorry to hear that. My condolences' Jon said as he tried to recall the event, but his mind was strangely blank.

 

'He did his duty, my king. For that, we are all grateful. However, by the time we'd discovered that you were still alive, a raven had already been sent to Winterfell with the news of the attack and your demise'.

 

_Arya thought him dead? His heart constricted at the thought of her grief._

 

'Daenerys summoned her to Kings Landing didn't she?' he asked as dread coiled in his belly.

 

Lord Manderly nodded. 'Soon after the news of the attack, the Queen received a raven from the South. The Dragon Queen demanded that the Queen return the horn; and, bend the knee or else. I am certain you can imagine what the 'or else' entailed'.

 

'Why did you not inform Arya when you'd discovered I was alive? She may have tarried the journey long enough for me to return to her' Jon said.

 

'Your condition when we found you was not very encouraging, my king. We thought it prudent to keep the news to ourselves until we were certain of your recovery, lest we cause the Queen even more grief. But, then we received news that the Queen meant to travel South without delay. She asked all her bannermen and allies to meet with her at the Moat. I chose to remain here, with you and Wylis attended the Council in my stead'.

 

'How long ago was the Council?' Jon asked anxiously.

 

'Two days past, Your Grace. I think you know what the Queen means to do. She would never have bent the knee. Not after all that Dragon Queen has done'.

 

'I have to get to her, Lord Manderly. She's riding to battle and danger...she's all alone. She's with child! I have to be with her'.

 

'I suppose if you ride hard enough you could catch her on the road before she arrives at Kings Landing. But you are in no condition to make a strenuous journey'.

 

'Lord Manderly even if I was certain that this journey would be the very death of me, still I would go. Have the men prepare...we ride before the sun sets'.

 

'As you command, my king'.

 

Just then the door of the chamber banged open as the maester came rushing in.

 

'Urgent news from Kings Landing, my lord'.

 

Lord Manderly all but snatched the missive from the maester's hand and began to read. A moment or two later he looked up at the King with distress clear on his face.

 

'The raven is from Tyrion Lannister, Your Grace. He writes to inform us that the Dragon Queen has ordered the Dragon fleet to set sail for the capital'.

 

Jon felt a hatred burn in his heart unlike any he had experienced. Ice cool wrath erupted in his chest as his blood slowed in his veins. 

 

'Lord Manderly, is our fleet still stationed at Widow's Watch?' he asked.

 

'No, Your Grace. The Queen ordered them moved to White Harbor soon after the attack. They are here, waiting just beyond our shores'.

 

'Good' Jon said 'and how many galleys have we now?'

 

'Including White Harbor's ships, we total around three hundred now, Your Grace'.

 

Jon reached for Longclaw and gripped its pommel tight. 'I think we had best change our plan'.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_It was curious feeling, Arya thought, to march to one's own death._

 

_Jaqen's revelation had hit her like a tidal wave. A cold, unfeeling surge of water. She felt it filling her lungs so she could barely breathe and her brain felt panicked for a wisp of air. But, she found she no longer had any will to fight, and that she wanted the water to take her so it could stop. So all of the relentless tragedies of life could stop once and for all. All around her was dark, for the light of her world had gone out._

 

_After losing Jon, she had nothing but her babe, but, duty had demanded even that of her. She had nothing left to lose. Nothing at all, save a purpose._

 

_That purpose was to see her family and people safe. Nothing would stop her from achieving that. Not even death. She did not plan to live...she had no desire to. As a child, she'd lost her father and mother and just as her life was beginning to bloom, winter had taken away any hope of spring she'd harboured. If all that was most dear to her in the world would be snatched away then she had no interest in existing in such a world._

_They were but a day's ride away from Kings Landing and then all of it would be over._

 

* * *

 

 

 

They arrived at the capital just as the sun was beginning to set. Word had been sent to the Dragon Queen that the Queen in the North required rest as the journey had been taxing in her condition. None of it was true, of course. Arya just wanted an excuse to set up camp outside the city. Away from the people.

 

The Dragon Queen had agreed to the request in her complacency and had set the meeting for the next morn.

 

Arya smiled mirthlessly as she read the message from Daenerys Targaryen, in her tent. There would be no meeting. There would be no kneeling. There would never again be the threat of fire and blood. She would make certain of that. All she waited for was the dark of the night, to afford her enough cover for what she planned.

 

She had only just taken off her crown to set it on the table when Sansa entered her chambers. 

 

'I take it the Dragon Queen agreed to your request?'

 

Arya nodded. 'We wait until the darkest part of the night and then..'

 

'And then what? And then I let you walk to what would perhaps be your death? Do you truly believe I believe the story you and the Lorathi cooked up between yourselves? I know you're hiding something!'

 

Arya sighed. She could not tell Sansa. It was a risk she could not take. 'Sansa, Jaqen has not lied to us. There is some danger attached to making use of the horn but it is our only choice or did you not see Daenery's army assembled outside the city gates. She will not stop after I have bent the knee. We are too much of a danger. As long as even a single Stark is alive, she knows she will never keep the North'.

 

'Some danger? Arya, you are with child? What if something happens to the babe?'

 

Arya turned her back to her sister so that she could not see the pain in her eyes. _My babe is what I will lose for certain_. 'Nothing will happen to the babe. Do you think I would ever relent to do something that would harm the only thing I have left of Jon?' She said, thankful that her voice did not waver.

 

'Still, there must be something...'

 

But Arya interrupted her sister, 'Sansa, trust me. When the dragons are gone, Daenerys will be weak enough to defeat. We do not stand a chance while the dragons still live. You this as well as I do. If there was any other way...'

 

'Arya, I am begging you to tell me the truth. Do you think I have not sensed the change in you? It's almost as if you do not inhabit that body of yours anymore. You eat, sleep and do everything but when I look into your eyes...I do not see _you_. Almost as if...you're not there anymore'.

 

_Gods of my father give me strength, give me the strength to carry on for one more day. Just one, she thought._ 'I am tired, Sansa. I am tired of fighting, of bearing the weight of my crown. I have not even grieved for my husband. Yes, I have changed. I will likely remain so for the rest of my life'.

 

Arya felt Sansa's arms wrap around her from behind as tears leaked from her eyes. 'I am sorry, Arya. I did not mean to add on to your grief'.

 

'You haven't. Your strength gives me strength. I could not have done this on my own', Arya stated as she covered Sansa's hands with her own. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Arya was finally alone in the tent again, she went to towards the bed and lay upon it; on her side, curled up, as she used to when she was a babe. She kept staring into the distance willing the hours to move faster when she suddenly remembered her prayer in front of the heart-tree in Winterfell .. _.' Help me to always put duty to my people before any want of mine. To understand and remember that my pledge to my people is sacrosanct...'._

  
'Before any want of mine', she whispered and suddenly she was crying again. Her sweet babe. She imagined a little boy with grey eyes, who looked upon her with utter devotion. She was so eager to hold him in her arms and she wanted him...more than anything.

  
But her dreams came only second to her duty. The day she had worn the crown, she had become more than just Arya Stark, more than just 'daughter of the North'. On that day, she had become a mother to her people. She had sworn to protect them, with her life if the need ever arose. _When had duty become so important? When had a promise become worth more than a life?_

  
'Seven Hells, I truly am my father's daughter', she thought to herself and then felt as if he were right beside her and was smiling at her train of thought.

  
_'Life rarely turns the way we want it to Arya...Remember that even in your most difficult hour, you are never alone. I will always be with you. Always'_ , his voice seemed to whisper even as a kiss as light as air touched her forehead.

  
She had lost him when she had been but nine years of age, but his words and actions had lived on in her. She had grown darker, had almost lost her way...but his memories had always anchored her. Reminded her of who she was... _' You are Arya Stark of Winterfell...you told me you could be strong'_. The older she grew, the more she understood her father's choices, his pain and burden. To be a leader, to wear a crown...was to be alone. While the world could rejoice in your triumphs, the grief and hardship of ruling were borne by none save the ruler. He had understood that better than most...and now she understood it too.

  
She touched her belly and whispered, _'You and I will be together little one, one day we will be together...in this world or the next'_. Her movements were slow as she got up off the bed as if the last few hours had aged her all too quickly and walked to where her crown was kept. She picked and placed it upon her head...' So be it', she whispered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The Dragonbinder had been placed as close to the city gates as they could manage, without being seen. Only a handful of men had been recruited to move the horn to not draw too much attention from the guards atop the city wall. That the night was at its darkest certainly helped them in their task. But even so, time was moving too quickly.

As Arya approached the horn she was followed by Lord Davos. Jaqen H'ghar stood next to the hell-horn awaiting them. Arya loosened her sword belt and took it off. She handed over her sword to Lord Davos.

The horn was massive compared to her. She bent and with both hands tried to raise the horn. It took her several attempts but she managed it in the end albeit with great difficulty. The horn seemed to grow warmer in her hands, its twisted being shone as if alive with anticipation. 'This horn is born of evil', Arya thought to herself. It seemed  
to know what was to follow and the prospect of fire and blood excited it.

  
_'You do not frighten me Dragonbinder'_ , she thought. _'I will overcome your evil and you...you will bend to my will'_ , she promised herself.

  
She looked at Jaqen who inclined his head and moved away from her. He motioned for Lord Davos to do the same. Arya took a deep breath, closed her eyes and put her mouth to the horn. The sound that the horn emitted seemed like a thousand screams all melded into one. Lord Davos felt as if his blood was set alight as if his very bones were burning. The glyphs on the horn started to glow...white hot. All around them the darkness and silence of the night was rent by the scream the Dragonbinder emitted  
and the very air around them grew warmer.

  
The guards, he noticed were barely holding on to their courage, a few had their hands on their ears trying to block out the sound. But the Lorathi stood there, quiet as a shadow...his gaze never leaving the queen's face.

  
On and on the sound went until he felt his heart would burst from its cage...when all at once he saw a curious thing. The glyphs had begun to grow dim, but when the queen opened her eyes, they shone now, like embers. And suddenly the sound of the horn did not seem quite so terrible, like any power the horn possessed was somehow sapped.

  
When Arya removed her lips from the horn, her breath seemed to mist, like she stood not in the sweltering heat of Kings Landing but the heart of winter. She was a sight beautiful and terrible to behold...the girl they all knew had been overtaken by something more ancient and more powerful than any of them imagined.

  
Her hands let go of the horn, but the gleam in her eyes grew stronger, not weaker. She stalked forward slowly, unspeaking and unaware of any beside her and spoke in a language unknown to any of them. 

 

_'Sīmonagon se māzigon naejot nyke zaldrīzoti'._

  
Valyrian, Lord Davos recognised. The Queen spoke in High Valyrian. But her voice, it was unlike any he had ever heard. It held all the power of nature embodied within it...

  
Beyond them, within the walls of the city, a sort of panic had awoken. Screams were heard and then an almighty crash as if some structure had come crashing down. Shouts and orders filled the air, and all of the city had suddenly come alive with movement. Mere minutes later, two dragons appeared flying above the city. Their huge wings flapping as they hovered in the air.

  
_'Māzigon'_ , she spoke and the dragons moved towards them as if they were reeled by some invisible force. When the dragons flew closer to where they stood, away from the gates of the city; he saw the Queen raise her hand and turn it and in the air, the dragons turned to face each other as if by magic.

  
It was then that Lord Davos felt they all stood on the edge of a great precipice, all was silent for a few seconds like the calm before a storm.

  
Then he heard Arya say one word, a word they were all familiar with...' _DRACARYS'._

  
_Dragon fire filled the sky. The dragons seemed to attack each other as if caught in some sort of blood lust. The blaze lasted for endless minutes. When all was over, the bodies of the last Targaryen dragons lay on the field, charred and broken._

On the horizon streaks of the sun's light had begun to fill the sky. Dawn had come.

  
Beside him, he saw the Queen collapse and fall to the ground. When he rushed to her to help, she was as cold as ice to touch. He lifted her in his arms and screamed for the guards to get a maester. In his worry for the queen, he did not notice the army heading towards their encampment bearing the sigils of the houses from the Stormlands, the Riverlands and the Vale. Their allies had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is ...the penultimate chapter you were promised. 
> 
> Shit really did go down and alas we have stopped at another crucial point. 
> 
> Arya did use the Dragonbinder, but did it truly work out the way Jaqen said it would? Or was there something else at play?  
> How much power does a bloodline as ancient as the Starks' possess?
> 
> All this and more will be revealed in the next chapter.
> 
> The high valyrian was born out of the english to valryian translator so please bear with me if there are any inaccuracies.
> 
> The first line of text means : Rise and come to me dragons.
> 
> The second: come and we all know what the third stands for.
> 
> That's it from me for now and I'd like to add a little disclaimer before I head for the hills yet again..this was typed in a hurry. I will be re-reading and correcting all errors later.
> 
> Till then, enjoy!


	25. Chapter 25

** _“In all the world, there are only two strong enough. One born for it, the other through great sacrifice.” -- Jessica Leake_ **

 

 

 

The quiet in the air had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Something was very, very wrong, Jon thought to himself as he entered the pavilion. 

His eyes took a minute to adjust to the darkness inside from the glare of the sun outside. The image that greeted him took his breath away. Arya lay motionless on the pallet and only sign of life was the imperceptible rise and fall of her chest. When Jon drew closer and observed the pallor of her skin, the fear in him rose to insurmountable heights. He moved to take her hand in his own, to feel the warmth of her only to discover her flesh was ice cool.

He felt unbearable grief overwhelm him. He had seen countless men die in battle and knew the signs of impending death. Seeing those symptoms manifest in the woman he loved more than his life was agonising. 

Sansa watched as Jon lay his head at her sister's side all the while clutching her hand as if afraid to let go. His misery and grief increased her fears as tears sprang into her eyes yet again. She doubted that Jon had even noticed her presence. His appearance had both pleased and saddened her. Had Arya known he was alive...

However, her assumption was proven wrong when she heard Jon's voice whisper 'What happened?'

She saw him raise his head, saw his tormented eyes and felt herself reveal the entire sequence of events since they'd arrived in Kings Landing.

* * *

 

 

Sansa left Jon with Arya, to afford him privacy with her. A stray doubt had entered her heart, however, the moment she'd seen Jon enter the pavilion. Her cousin had been alive and well all this time and, yet, they had received no word of such an occurrence from White Harbor or Jon himself. She motioned to the guard standing next to her and give him instructions. She had a suspicion and meant to allay it. If her doubt was accurate, however, she would make certain that the snake responsible for her sister's condition was put to death in the most painful way possible. This she vowed. 

* * *

 

 

Sansa looked up when Jaqen H'ghar entered her tent flanked by four sentries on either side; clearly they were not about to let the Faceless Man slip from their fingers. They feared the look in Lady Stark's eyes too much to let such a thing happen.

"Leave us", Sansa spoke softly.

The guards inclined their heads and filed out; leaving Sansa and Jaqen alone.

'I had the guards search your tent. They found some correspondence meant for my sister, the Queen. Care to guess what the letters stated?' she asked as calmly as she could manage.

Jaqen's gaze moved until it rested on the young woman before him.

'That the King, His Grace Jon Targaryen was alive' he spoke.

Sansa nodded and moved closer to the man. 'You knew what Jon means to my sister. You knew what the news of his well-being would have meant to her. Yet, still, you kept it from her. Tell me, Lorathi, is there any reason why I should not march to my sister's tent to inform Jon of your treason. I assure you, he will come up with the most inventive of ends for you'.

'All that was done, was done with the intent to protect the Queen'. was all that the man said.

'Is that right? You told her to sacrifice herself with the intent to protect her, knowing she was burdened by grief, knowing she was with child? I thought the Faceless Men were supposed to be masters of manipulation, but, your feeble lies fool no one but yourself' Sansa said angrily as she moved towards the exit with the letters clutched in her hand.

 

Jaqen remained quiet for a few moments until Sansa had almost reached the opening of the pavilion. 

'Do you know the story of the origin of the Faceless Men my lady? Many years ago, the empire of Valyria had humble beginnings, but then came the dragons. The Valyrians learned how to control these beasts, however. The Ghiscari Empire met its end soon after. Yet, their Valyrian conquerors adopted one of their deplorable traditions; that of slavery. Slaves that the Valyrians put to work in the volcanic mountains calledthe Fourteen Flames.

As the Valyrians' power and mastery over their dragons grew, so did their greed and cruelty. The riches mined by the slaves allowed the empire to grow, yet none cared for the people the dragonlords owed their prosperity to. No one can say how many perished in those mines, but 'tis said the numbers were beyond belief. It was there, in those mines that reeked of death and tears that the Faceless Men came into being and it was they who delivered the gift to the masters. No one knows better the tyranny and barbarism the reign of dragons can bring than the order'. Jaqen said as moved to sit on the chair placed near him. 

Sansa turned to see him observing her from where he sat. Once, he was convinced she was willing to listen further, he continued.

'After the Doom of Valyria, the Targaryens found their way to Westeros and began a new reign. The order waited and watched as the Targaryens took over the seven kingdoms one by one, but unlike their forebears, they were not prone to keeping slaves. Aegon Targaryen unified Westeros under one banner and his rule was just. Slowly but surely as the need for fire and blood dissipated, the dragons were kept out of the skies and in their keeps...and that is how they met their end. Captivity did not agree with them. In this manner, years turned to decades and decades to millennia; and the Targaryen dynasty too began to decline.

Sometime before the Rebellion, the order received an ancient text that spoke of the end of the reign of fire and blood once and for all. Most beliefs have such prophecies- the red priests often spoke of the Prince who was promised. Our text spoke of a child born in an ancient house of Westeros that traced its lineage back to Brandon the Builder. This child was to bring balance back into the world and would herald the beginning of a new age of man in Westeros. 

Many years, the order of the Faceless Men stood by, watching from the shadows; awaiting the signs the prophecy spoke of to manifest themselves. All in your family were observed for years, but, it was your sister who showed the signs the prophecy spoke of. Do you imagine your sister merely made her way to Braavos by chance? Rarely do women become part of the order, even rarer is the induction of a child. But the elders allowed Arya Stark to join. She was trained and her skills were honed. Her abilities as a warg and a skin-changer became stronger and the magic running her veins grew stronger still.

But, even as her skills were sharpened, so too did the mother of dragons gain more power and whispers spread of dragons in the east. For such is the law of nature and balance. Your sister was the hero that ended the Long Night, she slew the Night King- the bringer of ice and freezing cold. Would it then, not be poetic justice that she be the one to kill the dragons that many call the fiery sword of destruction?'

'If my sister was so destined then why the deception?' Sansa asked. 'Why did you not just tell her the truth?'

'Because to trust a prophecy completely is ill-advised, my lady of Stark. Even the very wisest can not see all ends. There is no greater love than that of a mother for her child. Such a sacrifice as she was prepared to make requires a strength of heart few have. She knew what she stood to lose and yet chose to sacrifice her love for her people. Power comes in many forms, none stronger than that of sacrifice. Had she known that there was a chance she could succeed without any consequence, her will, her resolve would not have been what it was. Nothing less than a will of iron would have defeated the Dragonbinder. She was made all the more potent because she was willing to surrender anything to save her people. The deception, as you call it, was to keep her safe' Jaqen answered.

'If all you say is true, and, my sister was the one prophecised to bring an end to ice and fire...why has she not awakened?' Sansa felt her will weaken as her shoulders slumped and her head bowed slightly. 'Will she ever?'

But before Jaqen could answer Lord Davos burst into the tent.

'My Lady, the King has summoned you' he said and then smiled. 'The Queen is awake and the maester is currently checking her condition'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYYYY!!
> 
> Sorry for looong wait. Real-life stuff intruded. But, here I am with a brand new chapter.
> 
> As usual, this was typed as if typing was going out of style, therefore, please excuse any errors. I shall be reviewing and correcting in a bit. 
> 
> Till then, enjoy!


	26. Chapter 26

_**“In every life, there comes a day of reckoning - a time when unsettled scores demand retribution, and our own lies and transgressions are finally laid bare.”** _ _**\-- Revenge** _

 

 

She stood in the balcony overlooking the city. Her unkempt hair stirred lightly in the breeze. Her eyes were empty, unseeing as they stared ahead. 

 

She was truly alone now. Her children were gone. Her life, all that she had fought to gain, to achieve was gone. She was Daenerys the breaker of chains once, but now, she was broken. 

 

Once she'd dreamed about liberating her people, that dream would now never be realised. 

 

Her eyes slowly slid shut in weariness. She was tired, so tired.

 

In the stillness of the night, her heartbeat sounded in her ears.

 

_Thump. thump. thump._

 

Until suddenly, a long-forgotten voice roused on the edge of her memory.

 

_'No. You are the blood of the dragon. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words'._

 

'Fire and blood' she whispered to the breeze as it carried the words away. 

 

When her eyes opened again, they seemed to glow in the darkness. 

 

 _'They think they've defeated me. They have torn out my wings but forgotten I have claws. I am the blood of the dragon, I am the mother of dragons and I will not bow. Not now, not ever. If this is to be the end of the Targaryen line then I will give them an end worthy of my forebears._ **_Full of death, full of destruction...dripping with blood._ ** _Let them come.',_  she thought as she made her way indoors.

 

There were matters to attend to. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jon lay beside Arya as she slept peacefully. The maester had seen to her shortly she had awoken. 

 

Their babe was unharmed by the Dragon-horn and its magic. The maester had warned Jon that while using the horn had left no adverse effects, it had affected the Queen's endurance greatly. She was left highly weakened and required rest and recuperation without any strain. 

 

Arya had barely spoken two words to Jon before falling asleep, despite her elation at seeing him. 

 

He reached out to take her hair in his hand, as it lay spread over her pillow. Bending his head he breathed in the scent that lingered in the strands. She smelled of snow, fir trees, and, the cool wind blowing from the North. She smelled of home. She had shouldered such a terrible burden the past few days. 

 

News of the attack and his alleged death had reached her at the same time. But, his proud warrior princess had not given up. She had left most of the Northern army stationed near the Neck, opting instead to depend on their allies to the South. He knew she had done so for two reasons. 

 

One, because she remembered what happened the last time Winterfell was left unattended as its King went fighting South. She did not want to repeat Robb's mistakes. The second reason was sending the South and Daenerys a message. The North did not stand alone, others too had tired of her propensity for destruction.

 

She had left little for him to do he thought with a smile. But then the smiled dissolved as a thought came to him unbidden. They were expecting Daenerys to behave rationally. To see that her hand had failed and to give up gracefully. 

 

The Dragon Queen was anything but pliant - and now - rational would be the last thing they could expect from her. She would not stop. Not until they were gone, or she was. 

 

Jon kissed Arya's brow as he left the bed and made his way out of the pavilion. The Dragon Queen had twice threatened the safety of the one person he loved more than anything in the world. She would not get a third chance.

 

_He would burn her kingdom to ashes if she even tried. There would be no mercy this time, only reckoning._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know...its like I disappeared off the face of the Earth. 
> 
> But I'm still here, struggling bravely, nay valiantly out of writers' block. 
> 
> I have not given up on this story. I plan on finishing it. So, please bear with me. Also, I know this chapter is very small, but, honestly as soon as I could write something, I did. Then I posted it immediately. I was just so happy to be writing again. Hopefully, things will flow smoother now that my brain cells are firing again :D
> 
> Enjoy!


	27. Chapter 27

'Why are tunnels always so blasted dark?' he asked almost tripping over his feet.

'Your answer lies within your question, my lord', the Spyder replied.

'I'm hardly in the mood for one of your riddles, Varys', Tyrion answered having lost all patience. The Seven only knew how far they'd travelled in the dim shadows.

'I understand tensions are high and your patience is at an end, though, I believe you will thank me one day for having dragged you here. We are almost at our destination.'

 

The little glass lamp Varys handled so carefully revealed a little door as the tunnel curved suddenly. Tyrion heard the jangle of keys and finally the sound of a lock turning. Varys pushed the door open and stepped aside allowing Tyrion to proceed him. As the lamp illuminated the room, the outline of shelves became apparent. The shelves closest to them were lined with jars. Jars that were only too familiar to Tyrion.

 

'How?', Tyrion felt himself gasp. 'When Daenerys took the throne I had the guild disbanded.'

'Your brother used to say Targaryens were all mad for fire. He was right it seems, more accurate than us two. The Queen has had the Alchemists Guild working for her quietly all these years. If fire is power then I'd say Daenerys is still very, very powerful. This is but a glimpse of what lies waiting beneath every corner of Kings Landing now.'

Tyrion stared at the shelves in a sort of morbid fascination. His mind had gone numb. For once, all his cleverness had deserted him. His father was no doubt laughing in his grave. 

Varys's words broke him out of his trance. 'You must know what she means to do now, Lord Tyrion. You were, of course, present for the war counsel where the Queen ordered the commanders to not stray too far from the city gates. She means to lure the Northern army within the city and this is why. If the battle tomorrow takes place an unprecedented massacre awaits us all. She would rather die than surrender now.'

Tyrion turned to face Varys bristling with fury. 'You've known about the wildfire all this time and now is the time you choose to reveal the secret. You allowed caches of wildfire to spread across the city, yet again, and did nothing!'

'What exactly would you have had me do? Order the Queen to stop? Persuade her or perhaps plot against the regent again? Unfortunately for us both, I seem to have run out of Targaryens. We both placed our hopes in the Dragon Queen and we both chose wrong.'

 

Despite the cold permeating the tunnels, Tyrion found himself sweating profusely. Silence lingered in the air and he shivered in the claustrophobic chamber. He imagined himself locked within a room with no doors, there was no way out of the mire he found himself in. The trap he had managed to evade thus far finally had him in its coils. 

_'...It all goes back and back. To our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads...'_

His words came back from the past to haunt him. Some part of him almost scoffed. He had imagined himself to be many a thing, prophetic had not been one of them. 

'It seems the coin has dropped, my lord and madness has descended', Varys whispered.

Varys's words sparked a memory of not too long ago. The words he'd exchanged with Jon before his departure. 

_'...Sooner or later, the coin will drop and we both know which side it will land on...Love is the death of duty Maester Aemon said and your duty as Hand is to people of this realm. Remember that, when the time comes...'_

Tyrion smiled a sad little smile. The time had come to pay the piper. All his sins had finally caught up with him. Tysha's face smiled at him from the depths of his memory.

 _'Daenerys is her father's daughter, Lord Varys. And I, it appears, am my father's son'_ , he said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tyrion entered the throne room and saw the Queen sitting upon the Iron Throne. A tiny slip of a girl she appeared, atop a seat of monstrous, jagged edges. In contrast to the twisted, shining metal she seemed soft and graceful, dressed in a gown of white satin.

But appearances were deceptive, he had learned. The Queen's will rivalled the strength of her throne. Much like the swords that held the seat together, Daenerys too had been twisted and beaten and broken by fate.

'Tyrion, is all ready for the morrow?', she asked.

 _Was everything ready he asked himself? Was he ready for what he had to do next?_ Tywin Lannister, had he been alive, would surely have appreciated the irony in the situation. 

Out loud he spoke, 'Yes, Your Grace. But that is not why I am here. I come bearing gifts.' He lifted his hands to reveal a bottle and two cups.

'Your special wine?' Daenerys asked as she saw the ornate green bottle he carried.

'A case of the golden vintage all the way from across the Jade Sea. This cost me a pretty penny to procure, My Queen. But, I am told that once you taste the golden vintage, all other vines taste like vinegar. I have been saving it for a special occasion.'

Daenerys stood up and descended the iron steps. She had all the regality of a queen, he thought but little forbearance.

As Daenerys approached him, Tyrion took a seat on the steps of the platform leading to the throne. He poured wine in the cups and handed one to her as she took a seat beside him.

'I know you are not pleased with our present circumstances, Tyrion. I wish things were not so. I admit I had forgotten my purpose and lost my way for a while, but, I have found it once more. Changing the world requires making difficult choices. Do you remember when I told you I would break the wheel?'

Tyrion nodded unable to meet her eyes.

'I am more than just the mother of dragons. I am Daenerys Stormborn, the breaker of chains. No matter where we go, Essos or Westeros, I have come to realise that we live in a hostile world. A world where horrors come to life and trample the weak into dust. The only way to stop the carnage, to stop the past from repeating over and over, is to wipe the slate clean. What I plan to do now is no different than trimming the weeds in an orchard in order for it to flourish. People fear me, they fear my methods because they oppose what I intend to achieve - change.

Yes, I have killed. I have destroyed, but, I have saved too. What these Northerners accuse me of is a mindless massacre. That is not true. I want power, but not for power's sake. It has always been my destiny to save the people of the realm, Tyrion, from themselves if need be. Measure what I have wrought against the crimes of those who ruled before me. Am not a better choice?  I have seen glimpses of the future in my dreams Tyrion. I have seen how our ways will lead us to ruin. People feared my children, but fire does not just destroy - it cleanses too. That is what we need to do. We need to cleanse this world of those who would lead it towards its destruction.'

Tyrion observed the Queen silently as she said her piece. One look at her was enough to reveal that she truly believed the words she uttered. She truly believed herself to be the saviour of Westeros. 

Daenerys was quiet for e few moments as she moved her hand to swirl the liquid in her cup. 'Some say I am a monster. I made peace with the fact that I am a dragon long ago. Dragons plant no trees. To some, I am a villain to others I am a saviour. I intend to let history speak for me. Now, I just want to fulfil my purpose, come what may.'

Tyrion realised her mood had mellowed and saw it as an opportunity. An opportunity that could change everything, if only he could get her to listen.

'Daenerys,' he started and then took a deep breath. 'I know you want what is best for the people. That is why I beg you to reconsider. Do not fight the Northerners. I can arrange for a parley...'

'No, Tyrion!' she cut in before he could complete his sentence. 'Were you not listening?  Do you not understand? This is not just about the Northerners anymore. I have remembered who I am and what I need to do. I will not stop following my purpose -  no matter how many armies stand before me. Even if it means my death, even if it means all our deaths. I am the last of my line, it falls to me now to leave behind a legacy worthy of my name. I was born for this. Fire and blood, Tyrion. They both represent life - can you not understand?'

Tyrion looked at his feet and closed his eyes briefly. He had failed. For a second he felt like crying.

When he lifted his head again he saw that Daenerys was about to sip from her cup. As the cup touched her lips he was unable to stop himself.

'Daenerys?', he said softly.

She paused looking at him inquiringly.

'I do love you, you know?'

Daenerys smiled. 'I know, Tyrion. Where would I be without you?' she said as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek.

Tyrion watched in agony as Daenerys lifted the cup yet again and began to drink. He saw her throat move as the liquid entered her body. His breath left his body in one exhale.

It did not take long for the poison to do its work. One minute she was drinking her wine and the next the cup fell from her fingers.

'I feel - I feel faint all of a sudden', she whispered as her hand touched her forehead. 

Tyrion felt tears flood his eyes. 'Everything will be alright in a moment', he said as he moved forward to gather her in his arms. He gently lay her head against his chest as her breathing slowed further. 

'Tyrion...I - You...', she gasped.

'Let go, Daenerys. Find the red door. I will follow you soon,' he said then sobbed as he felt her breathing cease.

 

And so it was that Daenerys Stormborn, who had entered the world whilst a storm raged, left it with barely a soft sigh.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was by no means an easy chapter to write.
> 
> It reflects my own feelings for Daenerys. I do not really see her as the proverbial villain, instead, she seems like a lost child at times. I feel sympathy for her character as I read the books and at other times I feel a deep sense of foreboding. When I set out to write this story, I wanted her end to evoke sympathy and conflict. Here's hoping I was able to manage that.
> 
> Until next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, you how they say writers love comments...well they're right about that, so please do try and leave a comment (if you liked the story or even if you didn't like it). 
> 
> Also, I'm an impatient sort of person who has little to no patience with proof-reading, therefore, please excuse any and all grammatical and spelling errors. 
> 
> Last but not least...enjoy.


End file.
